Darth Vader and Son
by Cabochon
Summary: Non-linear one-shots based on the brilliant drawings in Jeffrey Brown's book "Darth Vader and Son." Darth Vader raising a 4-year-old Luke, and dealing with all the perils that come with fatherhood in true Sith fashion.
1. Hide

**Darth Vader and Son**

Summary: One-shots based on the brilliant drawings in Jeffrey Brown's book "_Darth Vader and Son_." Darth Vader raising a 4-year-old Luke, and dealing with all the perils that come with fatherhood in true Sith fashion.

Disclaimer: Star Wars, not mine is. Artistic talent of Jeffrey Brown, I also lack. Therefore, I make no money from this and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just really glad someone made that delightful book.

_Edit 16th December: _Bumped up the rating to T for themes in later chapters, changed "ficlets" to "one-shots" due to greater length of chapters that I had not planned.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hide**

"Eight…"

_Rasp-hiss_.

"Nine…"

_Rasp-hiss_.

"Ten!" Darth Vader declared with ominous finality.

His breath hissed though his triangular mouth grille, echoing into the shadows of the barely lit room. The Dark Lord of the Sith's durasteel prostheses descended the metal stairs, every stride deliberate and purposeful, cape furling behind him like a tangible shadow. The very presence of the Sith seemed to cast the room into further darkness, looming and chilling. The area was rarely accessed unless for maintenance, the recycled air pumped in through vents seemingly staler, and the surrounding rooms similarly empty of personnel. It was just him, and his target.

His heavy boots thudded with each step, adding to the soft whirr of machinery that was the _Exactor_'s inner workings.

"You cannot hide forever, Luke," he continued, the implanted sensors that replaced his ears picking up movement towards his right.

A bell-like structure obstructed his view, held off the ground by a single dark pole at the top. It flared out at the middle, access panels with blinking lights so like the ones on the monitoring panel on his chest. Darth Vader circled around it, intent on his quarry.

The angular head turned sharply at a brief flicker of the Force, shining in his mind with supernova brightness before it was hastily suppressed. There was no ignoring the remaining glow, however, and the accompanying sense of mental panic afterwards.

The corner of Vader's scarred lip raised in satisfaction as he, leisurely, gravitated towards the source.

"Your thoughts betray you," he admonished, synthesized bass voice rumbling like thunder.

There was a horrified gasp.

Then, an indignant, young voice cried out, "Cheater! You said you wouldn't use the Force!"

"It is not cheating if you are the one actively broadcasting your feelings," was the rejoinder.

"Aw! No fair!"

A giggle, then the shuffling of leather-shod feet. From his left eye's peripheral, Vader caught the white of his son's tunic as the boy risked a glance around his hiding place, stark against the darkness. A shock of blonde hair, still retaining its bleached look from the Tatooine suns, framed a small, excited face and pair of eyes once also belonging to Anakin Skywalker.

Luke Skywalker's blue eyes widened when they met Vader's (secretly) amused gaze. So quickly that Darth Vader briefly worried about whiplash, his son withdrew back to the cover of the pillar he hid behind.

Vader stalked forwards, able to see his son's shoulders trembling from barely held-in snickers, and promptly attacked him through the Force with the viciousness worthy of the Sith.

"I have you now!"

With a delighted scream, Luke fell to the ground, the impact completely softened by quick use of the Force by his father. He squirmed, laughing gleefully as invisible hands tickled his ribs and caused his eyes to scrunch and body to roll from side to side.

Vader showed mercy, ceasing his strike before Luke's stomach could begin to hurt, and picked up his son when he showed no signs of rising from his still-giggling stupor on the cold floor. It never ceased to amaze and, admittedly, unnerve him when feeling the much frailer body, fingers easily dwarfed in size and strength by his mechanical hands. An innocent, guileless face beamed back up at him, grin wide and toothy, when he reflexively straightened out some disarrayed locks of hair. Vader could sense the next request for another turn forming in his son's mind and had to interrupt the thought.

"Come, Luke, we must begin our tour of the _Exactor_," Darth Vader insisted, ignoring the boy's huff.

"But it's _boring_!" Luke was almost whining, but obediently tightened his grasp on his father's hand and walked by his side without further protest. "Can't we just go an' look at the hanger bay – I wanna see the starfighters and explore!"

"You need to locate my quarters from anywhere on this ship before you are allowed to explore," the Sith Lord didn't even hesitate to reply. Of course his son would prefer starfighters over the _Imperator_-class star destroyer; he knew what he would've picked at that age. When the child retained his mutinous face, he added, "Do you not want to accompany me to the command tower and watch me scare the officers?"

That ended the matter; Luke practically skipped after him.

* * *

AN: Chapter is based off 2 pages in the book. I recommend you read it at all costs, even if you have to pretend to be getting it for your kid brother in order to have it!

I am not a hard-core Star Wars fan, so please forgive and correct any mistakes you may see through the course of this fic. I am using "Darth Vader and Son" as my primary reference, as well as "Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader" by James Luceno…And Wookieepedia…

_Exactor_ shall be used as Vader's flagship, unless someone knows when the _Executor_ was completed? It shall also still be called _Imperator-_class rather than _Imperial I-_class.

Next Time: A visit to Dagobah.

Some Time: Vader and Luke meet officers on that tour they were supposed to go on.


	2. Visit to Dagobah

**Darth Vader and Son**

Summary: One-shots based on the brilliant drawings in Jeffrey Brown's book "_Darth Vader and Son_." Darth Vader raising a 4-year-old Luke, and dealing with all the perils that come with fatherhood in true Sith fashion.

Disclaimer: Still do not own anything.

Thank you to all the readers and reviewers! May the Force be with you all!

This chapter will combine 3 pages of _Darth Vader and Son_, with plenty of Star Wars quotes. Can you see them all? Much, much longer than the first chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Visit to Planet Dagobah, Dagobah System**

"Are we there yet?"

Darth Vader was forced to thank whatever higher beings out there that his son had, mercifully, been distracted by the interior of his TIE fighter for the majority of the trip. Still, after the soft _ooh_ing and _aah_ing had ceased, he'd known it would be inevitable that the 4-year-old would become impatient and fidgety.

"Not yet," Darth Vader sighed, meeting his son's eyes by one of the reflective panels near the controls. "Why not look out the viewport? You might see a satellite fly past."

With a delighted gasp, Luke silenced and stared up into space. Vader's heavily-modified TIE fighter held adequate life-support for both the Sith Lord and his son, who was provided with padded seat for comfort and an all-regulations-checked-and-double-checked-under-pain-of-subordinate's-death seatbelt. The boy's feet did not touch the ground, swinging idly as he hunted for satellites, but Darth Vader knew that when he started to grow, the cockpit would become even more confined. As it were, due to his immense height he was forced to crane his neck slightly, which he already knew would result in a terrible cramp afterwards.

_I should commission a larger TIE fighter_, Darth Vader thought seriously. _A more Advanced version, with hyperdrive._

Luke gasped again as he saw a piece of space debris twice the size of the fighter tumble past. His hand reached out as if to touch its pock-marked surface.

_And a deflector shield_, Vader decided with a definite nod. His neck twinged at the movement.

They were approaching the planet when Luke, apparently bored with the lack of satellites, whined, "Why are we going, anyway?"

"_I _am going because I have sensed a place on this planet strong in the dark side," Darth Vader replied firmly. "_You_ are going because the last time I left you alone you fooled the 501st into teaching you _sabacc_, of all games." And because all the troopers were too scared to watch Luke after Vader found out.

That had been a conversation the troopers were not going to forget in a very long time.

Luke slumped into the back of his chair with a groan. His father decided to ignore the mumbled, "You only found out 'cause I won all their credits."

"We're almost there," Vader reassured him, "tighten your seatbelt for the landing."

The boy grumbled, but obeyed instantly. Vader assessed the planet with his scanners and concluded that he would need all his concentration and flying expertise to navigate through such thick vegetation.

Minutes later, he knew he should've installed a more secure seatbelt, Dark Lord image be damned.

* * *

Luke had a very, very, very bad feeling about this planet.

And it was not just because his father – greatest pilot in the galaxy! – wasn't answering his cries even when he used the Force and the TIE fighter was stuck in a tree and he was dizzy and hungry and panicking and the buttons he was not at all allowed to touch beeped and flashed at him and there was a siren that made his ears ring and some hoses had come loose and were spraying him with hot air.

…Alright, maybe that contributed to the sick feeling too.

Scrambling with the seatbelt, Luke was thankful that the fighter had landed somewhat upside-down and enabled him to drop right onto the ingress/egress hatch. His father was sprawled beside it as well, lying right on top of the lever of the exit in a very uncomfortable position. Worried, he checked his father over for injury. No funny-looking limbs, breathing still steady, panel on his chest not going haywire – all was good. His helmet did have a bit of a crack on it, though…

Luke shook his head sadly; he knew he should have insisted on his father getting a better seatbelt too. His father's flimsy harness-thing had cleanly snapped on impact.

Fortunately, the emergency release button was still available.

As soon as it opened, Luke realised he had not thought it through enough.

_SPLAT_-_SQUELCH_

Their fighter happened to be stuck right above a quagmire.

Son of a bantha.

Panicking, Luke struggled, wriggled, and squirmed for all his might, but to no avail. The mud was thick, like syrup but worse, and was climbing up his thighs. No, it was not climbing, _he_ was _sinking_!

Wheezing, he frantically reached for his father, who had landed thankfully within arm's length, and yanked at his cloak. The Sith Lord had landed and stuck on his side, and Luke quickly tugged him onto his back with a sudden burst of strength, finally remembering his quicksand lessons from Tatooine.

"Alright, alright," his voice was suddenly high-pitched; he cleared it, "um, arms spread to slow – um – oh! No struggling or it'll swallow you right up –"

Well. That explained why it was already up to his waist. He should've remembered that a bit sooner.

He instantly stilled, hardly daring to breathe. He could feel himself trembling, though, and gulped.

"Now what, now what? Look for something to grab on!" Luke remembered, twisting his head slowly.

There seemed to be solid land nearby, crawling with vegetation. But his arms were too short!

"Dad! Dad, wake up!" Luke yelled, prodding the continuingly unresponsive man.

The eerie stillness of the forest, inhabitants probably frightened out of their minds by the crash, added to his fear, and the smell made his eyes water. The fog that was _everywhere _shielded much from his view, but he could still make out the sprawling forest and looming trees, crisscrossing branches overladen with vines blocking out the sun. The air felt heavy and charged with something that felt cold and filled him with an unexplainable, instinctive dread. Something moved to his far-left.

He shivered. The steady hiss of his father's respirator comforted him like never before.

Tears welled in Luke's eyes in frustration and terror as he clenched his fingers tightly around his father's cape, caked by mud. A tiny sob escaped his chest before he could squish it down. It was hopeless to even – no! He rubbed angrily at his cheeks and straightened his back, because he was 4 years old now and he could take care of his father! Even in the stupid swamp!

There was no one around, and he could not grab hold of anything. He had to think. There was the idea of using his father's cape to hook around a protruding root two arms lengths in front of him, but he found he could not extract it from the mud and had no idea how to detach it. Tiny fingers scrabbled at the cape's edge where it met his father's neck, but could not find purchase against any latch or button.

He could use the lightsaber to cut it! But his father had threatened him with a million years grounding if he'd touched it without permission…but it was a life-threatening situation! Luke searched, but to his disappointment the laser sword was already buried in the mud.

Undaunted, he searched his belt pouches, which had always been filled with bits of string and scrap when he lived on Tatooine. He could create a lasso, and haul them out! Perfect!

The questing fingers met air. And a nutritional snack bar.

Right. His belt had been emptied before to be cleaned.

Horror set in. He renewed his struggles, sinking further into the mud with the effort of heaving. He wasn't strong enough to lift them both from the muck, he realised after futile minutes. Tears threatened to add to his already sweat-slick cheeks and his mouth quivered. They were both doomed.

Unless…

Didn't father say he was strong in the Force? He'd lifted pebbles and a cereal box before – and that unfortunate incident involving an inadvertent food fight – what would be so different?

Luke let out a puff of air from his cheeks, reddened from physical effort, and concentrated on that pleasant tingly feeling he'd had before. He sucked in a deep breath and unsteadily wiped his face with his sleeve, still somehow not muddied from the surrounding muck. _C'mon, you can do it_, he braced himself in his mind, and closed his eyes.

He reached deep inside of himself, into that well of power that shone bright and brilliant. For a moment, he felt calm and completely in control, his worries and fears swept aside like driftwood by a tranquil wave. _C'mon_, he repeated, opening his eyes and _pulling_.

At first, nothing happened. Luke did not despair, not yet, and spread his fingers wide over his father's control panel. They shook with effort; he could practically feel his father's deadweight dragging him further into the mud. Nonono – no thinking about dead of any kind! He blinked rapidly, refocussing, and tried again.

Slowly, painfully slowly, a slight rise in the black-clad body, maybe from an unseen disturbance in the mud, but then – movement!

A relieved, tired laugh rose past the lump in Luke's throat. Sluggishly, as if the swamp was unwilling a victim go, his father pulled out of the muck with a wet squelch. Still half-sobbing, half-laughing, Luke scowled in concentration, slowly moving his father's impossibly hovering body onto firm, solid land. He set him down as gently as possible, then immediately slumped in emotional exhaustion.

"Stang!" Luke gasped, confident his father wouldn't hear him say the not-allowed word.

Shaking his head, Luke smiled to himself. Like their puppet-strings were cut, his arms dropped down, tired from being held up for so long. Wait until his father heard about this! He was a hero! His chest puffed in pride and he began to raise his arms, ready to extract himself from the muck –

And they were stuck by the forearms. Of course.

"Stupid, slimy mud hole!" Luke shouted into the forest.

"Mud hole? Slimy?! My home this is!"

Starting as much as he was able, Luke twisted his head. On a rock, pointed ears twitching, was a small, _green thing talking to him_!

He gasped.

And screamed.

* * *

Darth Vader groaned, life support systems shuddering in sympathy as he regained consciousness. He was on his back, he realised. The bed was a bit harder than usual for the medical bay; he needed to talk to or choke someone later. Most likely the latter.

Gradually, his senses came back online.

"…and then dad used the Force and it felt tingly and then _KABAM_! The guy went flying over the table because he was _mean_ and called him "Darth" and you're not 'posed to call adults by their first name!"

Hearing worked just fine. He smiled behind his mask; Luke must be chattering away at the medical droid or nurse, staying by his father's side as he healed. What had happened, though? His head throbbed…another bad report to the Emperor?

"…and everyone was really quiet afterwards, I think they thought he'd been rude too, don't you think, Master Yoda?"

What kind of nurse had a name like–

Wait.

Kriff.

_Snap-hiss_, his lightsaber was ignited before he even straightened to full height, dark side swirling around him in a malevolent tidal wave. He pushed aside the pain from standing too quickly, as well as almost slamming his head on the too-low ceiling, eyes zeroing in to the powerful _Jedi_ sitting near his _son_.

Ignoring the boy's happily oblivious cry of, "Dad! You're awake!", Vader used the Force to pick him up and yank him until he was behind the Sith Lord's back, conveniently depositing the boy onto the vacated bed.

"Yoda," he rumbled, hate infusing his voice like vitriol, "you survived."

The former Grand Master had the nerve to nod pleasantly, pointed ears bobbing.

"Surprised, all Sith seem," Yoda agreed.

Vader's hands tightened around his lightsaber, readying for the duel that would be the epitome of testing his skills. The hovel was cramped; he had the disadvantage of height, but plenty objects to throw using the Force. Manoeuvrability was an issue that eliminated some lightsaber techniques, as was striking distance, but if he could get the seemingly unarmed Jedi into a corner – but no, the walls were round, of course. The dark side ran hot and quick in his veins, preparing itself by feasting on his endless store of pain and anger, festering deep inside his mind and nurtured through his suffering. It felt heady, the seductive darkness, power running through –

"Dad!" Luke chose the prime opportunity to interrupt. "Dad! Are you feeling better?"

"Not _now_, Luke," he hissed, removing a hand from the lightsaber's hilt to prevent Luke from impaling himself on the red blade in his haste to examine him.

The duel suddenly took on a much more urgent, anxious edge. His son needed to be out of range _immediately_. To his frustration, the dark side receded slightly, unable to be provoked into frenzy when faced with rapidly mounting concern.

Yoda had the gall to look amused. "Troubled for your health, Luke is. Told me of your many adventures together he has."

"Master Yoda is a _Jedi_, dad!" Luke exclaimed, looking worriedly between his father's lightsaber that cast an ominous red glow onto his faceplate and the passive-looking alien. "He saved me from the quick-mud-stuff by using the _Force_ too!"

"Luke, go play outside," Darth Vader hissed, grabbing the back of his tunic and pushing him towards the opening to the outside. There wasn't even a door, just a skin of _something_ to keep the draft out. He eyed Yoda warily, but despite his hatred he knew the Jedi had a weakness for children and would not attack Luke.

"It's raining!" Luke protested, scowling.

"Stay under a tree!"

"I'll get barbequed by lightning!"

"Outside, son!" Vader growled, placing enough Force-suggestion in his words to make Luke stumble.

"Not too far," Yoda cautioned, much to Vader's displeasure when Luke immediately paused to listen, "A place strong in the dark side there is."

Luke's brow furrowed and he began to protest, "But we were looking for –"

"Luke!" Vader snapped.

Drawing back, Luke gave his father a wounded look before running out. Vader ignored the twinge of guilt that instantly needled him and turned back to the most dangerous, powerful enemy he'd ever encountered.

* * *

It was not fair.

Stupid planet. Stupid swamp. Stupid rain.

Luke splashed in a puddle, determinedly ignoring the crashes, smashes, tumbling, deep-voiced snarling and the hums of his father's lightsaber behind him. His father hadn't even _looked_ at him after he, Luke, had saved _his_ life for once!

Sigh.

And after Master Yoda had pulled Luke out of the swamp using the Force and helped (read: did everything) Luke to carry his father to his…house?

Hut?

Hollowed out tree root with mud furnishings?

Anyway, they were guests! And father drew his lightsaber on him! At least Luke had been polite, kinda, once he'd settled his father on the far too small bed, cleaned them both up as much as possible and recovered his shaking nerves.

He'd been planning to sit by his father's side, as was his habit whenever his father was sick, when a wooden bowl was shoved into his face.

"Eat! Eat!" exclaimed the green-alien-wrinkled thing, beckoning him towards the small fire. Luke tentatively thought it was male.

"Thank you, mister," Luke said, accepting it because he'd just saved his life and surely they weren't strangers anymore? He groaned as the warmth from the fire hit his cheeks and the heat from the grey…lumpy mush seeped into his hands, and realised they had to introduce themselves to not be strangers. "I'm Luke Skywalker. This is my father, Darth Vader."

"Known your father since he was just older than you I have," the strangely-speaking alien revealed. "Master Yoda of the Jedi I am."

The two revelations almost caused Luke to drop his bowl. He floundered for words, garbling the start of his sentences in an attempt to speak a million questions at once. Yoda waited with patience, and secret amusement, as the younger Skywalker took a calming breath.

"Is that why you're so wrinkly?" Luke blurted out with wide-eyed honesty.

Yoda chuckled, "When nine hundred years old _you_ reach, look as good you will not, hmm?"

Luke's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. "NINE HUNDRED?"

It was a surprise that his shout did not wake his father.

The Jedi Master proceeded to tell the boy that he was in exile on this planet Dagobah ("Why would you go here?! It's slimy! And I saw a giant slug with a million teeth!") because he was hiding from a very bad man ("Just like a holovid drama!") and needed time to rest those 900-year-old bones. He was a Jedi, another Force user, ("But dad said Jedi were dangerous!") and meant neither Luke nor his father any harm, as long as they didn't attack him ("Of course not! You saved us!") first. He was also one of the very few left alive.

It saddened Luke, wondering what it must feel like being all alone, especially on _Dagobah_. Sombrely, he asked how long Yoda had been living in exile.

"I'm 4 years old too," Luke exclaimed. "You must've been real lonely here for so long!"

"Lonely? No," Yoda disagreed with a shake of his head. "Always the past to keep me company. The creatures on the planet, and the Force. And now you and your father…Annoying though you may both be."

It was only the gently teasing tone that prevented Luke from responding with righteous indignation. Instead, he protested half-heartedly, "My dad is not annoying! He hasn't even woken up yet."

He received a "hmmm, hmmm" as a reply and the command to eat. Yoda scooped up another bowl from the side and began his meal, though smaller in portion than Luke's. Luke's stomach agreed with a rumble. He took the knobbly spoon, for once fitting well in his hand, and took a ravenous bite.

It was only through sheer force of will – and the memory of the last time he'd spat out food in his father's presence – that kept Luke from spitting the mouthful right onto the floor. He couldn't stop his instinctive exclamation of disgust, though.

"Bantha p–um…It's really nice, Master Yoda," Luke hastily fixed with a weak smile.

Yoda didn't seem ruffled, laughing and saying he did not mind. Acquired taste, whatever that meant.

Luke suddenly had an idea. He pulled out the nutritious snack bar from his belt pouch and offered the whole thing to Yoda with a serious expression. He probably hadn't tasted real food in four whole years! Luke could go hungry for a little while; he couldn't even imagine eating the same porridge-thing for even two days.

Yoda thanked him with a twinkle in his eye and took a little nibble.

It seemed it had been too long without real food, for Yoda immediately handed it back.

_Poor Yoda_, Luke thought mournfully, offering it back twice only to be rejected each time, _must be too much flavour_.

"How you get so big eating food of this kind?" Master Yoda demanded, shaking that strange cane he had accusingly while Luke took a bite of the bar.

Luke laughed and proceeded to describe his life on the _Exactor_, with his ample but strictly regulated food. Yoda then told him funny stories about when he used to teach younglings, who were Luke's age, at the Jedi temple. Luke, relaxing and less hungry, began telling him stories of living his father.

Who then proceeded to wake up halfway through a story and draw his lightsaber on their host.

Luke huffed, jumping into another puddle. Yelping when instead of being deceptively shallow the water swallowed him up to his knees, he scrambled away, fearing another repeat of the earlier quick-mud-swamp event. With a shiver, he swept his rain-soaked hair back in relief. He was soaked to the bone in water, still a strange feeling after being used to the sonic showers of Tatooine. At least most of the mud was off.

There was shouting – his father – and the sound of something heavy toppling to the ground – _his_ _father?!_ – from the hut. Luke told himself he didn't care and concentrated on playing in the rain. He splashed down the shallow depression near Yoda's hut, beginning to actually enjoy himself enough that he didn't notice when the commotion died down and there was more tightly-controlled shouting instead of lightsaber _whoosh_ing.

Luke had been wondering if the planet had womp rats as well when he sensed movement from behind him.

"Luke, you will become sick if you stay out in the rain like this," his father intoned with grave seriousness.

Suddenly miffed again, Luke shrugged and splashed his feet, not looking behind him.

There was a sigh.

Luke continued to splash even when he heard the rustling of cloth and the twin footfalls of his father as he stepped forward to join him in the water. Suddenly, he was weighted down by a heavy blackness across his vision. Blinking in confusion, Luke realised that his father had, bat-like, swept his cape around him with one arm to shield him from the rain. One gloved hand lay on his shoulder, solid and steady.

After a moment, Luke leaned into his father's leg with a contented breath.

No words were said for a long moment.

"Yoda has agreed to watch you," Vader suddenly broke the silence, "while I investigate the source of the dark side we came for."

Luke tilted his head curiously and asked, "Didn't you have a fight?"

Now that he looked closely, the crack on his helmet seemed bigger…and was that porridge on his father's chest plate?

Darth Vader tensed his hand that was not holding onto his son and replied, "We have reached a diplomatic accord."

Luke scowled; his father was using official words again. He smiled, though, when the cape and arm did not leave him when they returned to the hut.

Master Yoda was calmly sitting on the remains of his chair, eating.

Luke took one look around at the scorch marks and gasped, "Father!"

"I will be back shortly," Vader overrode his son's exasperation and departed with an unnecessary billowing of his cape.

As soon as his father left, Luke began to apologise to Yoda and nervously clean up the upended and scattered furniture. Parts of the wall, floor, and even ceiling were scored by lightsaber strikes. The Jedi did not even appear phased, waving him off the task, which caused Luke to wonder exactly what had happened and his already great respect for him grow.

Luke whirled around and asked in a rush, "CanyouteachmetheForce?!"

"Tell me, what is the Force?" Yoda countered without pause.

Stumped, Luke froze.

Yoda laughed pleasantly. "Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter." He gestured with his cane. "You must feel the Force around you. Here, between you, me, the tree, the mud, everywhere! Yes, even between the land and the ship in the tree."

Luke tried to take it in. "That doesn't make any sense…'

He yelped when Yoda's cane suddenly rapped his skull.

"Stubborn and hard is your head. Soften it we will!"

Looking horrified, Luke cried out, "I don't wanna soft head! It won't hold my brain an' my head's too small to stand on anyway!"

Yoda shook his head, "Size matters not. A small head means not small thoughts. Use the Force to calm your thoughts, you must. Show your father your skills, hmmm?"

Shoulders straightening, Luke's eyes sharpened with determination.

* * *

It had been a routine check; dark side, lingering Bpfasshi's energy, no need to delve deeper into the cave when he clearly sensed no living presence. Darth Vader was uneasy with leaving his son in the company of a Jedi, Yoda nevertheless, but without the TIE fighter to safely hide in, there was no other option except to leave him in the open and practically toss him into a giant slug's mouth. Had he brought the boy with him…who knew what the cloying dark side energies would've made him see?

But Darth Vader had had a reason to be hesitant.

"You told my son to stand on his head," Darth Vader deadpanned, "in order for it to _soften_?"

_This_ was the wisest Jedi to ever live? The talk they had prior was suddenly cast into doubt.

"Mysterious are the ways of the Force," Yoda replied agreeably, smiling at Luke as he waved at them from where he was red-faced sprawled on the mud ground.

A growl, strangled by the voice synthesiser. "Did you just make him stand on his head for an _hour_ because he was _annoying_ you?!"

Not even a pause before, "Very mysterious."

There were reasons that Darth Vader did not leave his son with others.

The sabacc-playing troopers were beginning to look more appealing.

There was mostly silence between the Force users as they travelled back to the TIE fighter, filled in more than enough by Luke's chatter and constant exclamations of delight and horror over the wildlife.

"There's that giant slug I saw before! Dad, look at its billion teeth!"

"Luke, get away from that plant. That looks poisonous."

"Master Yoda! Master Yoda, is that a _dragon_?!"

"Young Skywalker, keep your hands away from its mouth you should."

"DAD! Can we –"

"No more pets. Remember how the last one turned out?"

Yoda seemed interested in that question, but with a glare from his father that was evident even with the mask, Luke did not elaborate and they continued without further strife.

Luke wouldn't admit it, but he clutched tightly at his father's leg when they passed the place where they almost suffocated in mud. A quiet brush of his father's mind against his reassured him, though, and he loosened his death-grip slightly. He watched in wide-eyed awe as between them, Sith and Jedi extracted the TIE fighter from the tree, tilted it the right way around, and settled it on solid ground.

All without Darth Vader making eye-contact with the other, a grand achivement. With a whoop, the small boy ran over to the TIE fighter, fear forgotten.

An awkward pause descended on the two remaining Force users.

"Strong is he in the Force," Yoda remarked. "Great destiny awaits him…Like his father Anakin before him."

_Do not kill the Jedi in front of Luke_, Vader barely remembered.

"We will no longer require your assistance from hencewith, Jedi," he snarled.

"Still much anger in you," Yoda sighed, sorrowful and berating all in one.

That small voice deep inside him, the one ruthlessly repressed under layers of agony and wrath, reacted to the familiar berating voice.

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate…leads to…_

"I am a Sith. Anger and hate are my weapons, ones you Jedi were too weak and afraid to wield."

_Suffering._

"Hmm. Teach your son also to wield you will?"

Vader breathed.

Luke let out a peal of delighted laughter, discovering a dazed bat of some sort inside the cockpit. He turned and waved at the two who, unbeknownst to him, had been staring at him for an unknown period of time.

"Dad!" he shouted. "Dad, are we going yet?"

Darth Vader nodded and, satisfied, Luke turned back to occupy his remaining time with attempting to lure the bat-creature from the cockpit.

After debating with himself, and deciding that Luke would only ask later – damn and praise Beru for teaching him manners – Darth Vader turned to the knowingly smiling Yoda. With a twitch of his hand, an easily replaceable, unessential component of the TIE fighter flew towards him and landed by his feet.

"Take this for the repairs to your home, and appreciation for your efforts in saving my son's life," Vader's jaw muscles tightened before he forced out, "and my own as well…Master Yoda."

"Heh heh heh!" Yoda's eyes seemed to sparkle in sudden excitement. "Pulled you out of the swamp _I_ did not!"

Before Darth Vader could overcome his bewilderment and demand answers, the Jedi Grand Master flipped into the trees and leapt away with age-defying agility. The piece of TIE fighter shot away, following.

"WOW!" Luke cried from the TIE fighter, starting forward as if to trace the Jedi's path with his eyes, but he was already gone. "Bye Master Yoda!'

Vader, rooted to the spot, blinked as the Jedi's Force signature was instantly swallowed by the forest. What did that mean? Surely Luke…?

He turned to his unassuming son, who was scrambling with delight over the hatch. He was suddenly aware that he had underestimated him; the Force sung with Luke's budding powers.

Perhaps it was time to begin his formal training? _Yes, _Vader thought of the Emperor, and his all-knowing, sickly yellow eyes, _especially_ _shielding_. At least the basics, with no emphasis on the dark side…just yet. Determined, Vader decided to approach his son on the issue after they returned on-board the _Exactor._

He paused again.

…How in the Force were they to enter the star destroyer when covered in swamp goo?

**Later, back on the _Exactor_:**

Entering his quarters, clean and reenergised, Darth Vader suddenly felt a shudder of trepidation run through him. He glanced around, examining the corners of the room and the transparisteel windows, which Luke had immediately on arrival set to display a forest landscape, the closest he could get to the flora of Dagobah. Irritated, Vader straightened, stretching out his awareness through the Force in malicious tendrils to search for the source of his unease –

"Yoda's pretty great, right Dad?" Luke happily chattered, tugging at his cape gently.

Distracted, Vader stared down at his son, who grinned unknowingly back at him. He gave him a slightly harder than normal pat on the shoulder.

"Uh, sure," he grudgingly admitted, sacrificing eloquence in order to concentrate on checking behind his desk.

Spies? Another amateur assassination attempt? No, no other Force signature around. Perhaps an electronic bug had somehow been snuck in during his absence. He turned around, facing away from Luke in an attempt to convey _I am busy right now, go play_.

"He's _really_ powerful with the Force," Luke persisted, awe evident in his voice.

Leather gloves creaked as his hands tightened into fists. "I guess."

That feeling was getting stronger, perhaps he should investigate the refresher and –

"Even stronger in the Force than you, right?"

Ah. There it was.

Rage roiled in the centre of his chest, seething at the pint-sized green Jedi. How dare he plant doubts in his unfortunately suggestible son's mind! The old meddler was trying to turn Luke against him, using cheap parlour tricks to hide his manipulations, making the boy doubt his own father. Him and his infuriating _questions. _He could sense his son's worry at his rapidly darkening aura through the Force as well as his continuing silence.

Before the boy could voice his concern, Vader hissed out with forced nonchalance, "I don't know."

Luke hummed thoughtfully, scurrying to the rug that was still covered in his toys. His father remained staring out at the image of the forest, seething.

"But he's not the bestest pilot in the galaxy," Luke declared with certainty, rummaging around one of his toy chests.

Just the thought of the vertically challenged Jedi piloting was enough to soothe some of Vader's anger. Luke discarded some toys from the chest onto the ground without looking at them, intent on his search.

"No he is not," Vader agreed, pride recovering from the title his son had given him being defended.

"And he doesn't look like he could scare all the admirals and teni-uh-technicians and stuff into working extra hard."

_You'd be surprised_, Vader thought privately, but outwardly agreed. Luke let out a huff of frustration, shoving aside a Tauntaun plushie that had had its stuffing accidentally cut out a week before.

"And he's really small."

Vader smirked.

Luke's face twisted momentarily in what seemed like disgust as he continued, "And he doesn't cook as good as you."

Cook? Making him cereal didn't really count, but he agreed anyway.

Strange…a moment ago he was sure he was ready to choke some incompetent officer.

"I got it!" Luke shouted, holding aloft a fistful of – is that _string_? – from his toy box.

Confused, Darth Vader watched as his son shoved the knotted threads into his newly cleaned belt pockets, face determined. Before Vader could ask, Luke whirled around with a fierce expression in his eyes.

"Next time," Luke announced with a face almost too serious for Vader not to worry, "I'll be better prepared to save you!"

Darth Vader felt several breathing cycles hiss past. Luke continued to stare up at him, sharp gaze not wavering in the slightest. Finally, the Dark Lord gently placed one of his mechanical hands on top of the blond head.

"I'm sure you will, my son."

* * *

**AN:** Always carry string in your pocket, and remember: seatbelts save lives, everyone.

And dry cleaning bills.

Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think.

Next Time: Darth Sidious.

Some Time: That tour from last time, the pet Darth Vader mentioned, and officers tip-toeing.


	3. Emperor Palpatine

**Darth Vader and Son**

Disclaimer: Not my characters, multimillion dollar franchise, etc.

Thanks to all you viewers, alert-ers, favourite-rs and reviewers out there!

This chapter combines 2 pages from the book.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Emperor Palpatine**

Darth Vader knew it was one of _those days_ when what appeared to be his son flew past him in a blur of white, blue and blond.

He halted abruptly in the middle of the hallway, staring at the rapidly moving figure as it turned around the corner, tilting alarmingly to the side in its momentum. From the brief glimpse he had, Luke appeared to be clinging onto R2-D2's domed head, zipping away with such speed that Vader's cape had ruffled in the astromech droid's passing. Vader heard the boy shrieking in a mix of fear and delight as Artoo, beeping happily, zoomed down the corridors, the two sounds getting softer in volume as the distance grew. Something resembling a groan escaped him as he closed his eyes behind his mask, resigned. He was supposed to be working on the negotiations with the Bank of Aargau; he could not afford to be distracted by chasing after the boy.

Besides, hadn't he assigned some of his personal legion of troopers to watch him this time?

On cue, two pairs of running footsteps approached him from behind. Their preferred designations were Russ and Zapper, a pair of competent sergeants that were recommended by Commander Bow, commanding officer of Vader's 501st, himself to be physically fit enough for the task. However, they were struggling to speak with military precision through their pants, slowing down at the sight of the Force-user.

"Lord Vader!" the clones greeted simultaneously, saluting.

Before they could even come to a respectful stop, Vader interrupted with a sigh, "As you were."

They saluted once more and ran down in pursuit. _Do not exhaust my troopers too much, Luke,_ Vader sent to his son. The boy barely recognized his Force presence, replying with a jumbled mix of exhilaration, buzzing adrenalin and the single long word, _Wheeeeeeeeeee-ohwatchoutsorry!_ The Sith Lord was about to continue on his path when Russ reappeared from behind the corner.

"Sir, ah, it would not be recommended to return to your quarters as of yet," the trooper deferentially advised. "Your son's…" here, a struggling-to-be-polite pause that ultimately ended in a sound of distaste, "_pet_ has escaped from its confinements again."

Darth Vader sighed, tilting his head forward in acknowledgement as the trooper saluted and ran away to catch up with his comrade. Perfect. One of these days, he was going to throw the insane creature out of the airlock – after allowing the crew to use it for blaster practice, of course. They deserved retribution as much as he. At least with that fiend loose, he could not imagine that anything worse could occur to him.

In that moment, his comlink crackled and the voice of a nervous officer informed him of an incoming transmission from the Emperor.

Definitely one of those days, then.

* * *

The holographic communications chamber never failed to fill the Sith Lord with trepidation. Many times had he entered the chamber only to storm out in a black rage that required hours of meditation to harness into serviceable levels. Other instances, he emerged struggling not to stumble from a mental assault after a mission's particularly disastrous report.

His breathing filling the chamber with its artificial resonance, Darth Vader took a moment to compose his mind properly. He knelt on one knee and activated the switch with a flick of the Force.

Darth Sidious' shrivelled face blinked into view, the bluish projection dwarfing the kneeling Sith Lord and expanding across the darkened room. Even after years, Darth Vader had to push back his initial resentment and hatred of the master manipulator. Behind his deepest of shields, the anger festered, especially after the discovery of Luke and the implications his son's very existence brought.

_Is she safe? Is she alright?_

_It seems in your anger, you killed her…_

"What is thy bidding, my master?" Darth Vader intoned gravely, none of his feelings rising from their protective cage.

Before the Emperor could reply, something began poking Vader in the back. His body locked in absolute shock, all breath whooshing out of him.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!"

How in the Living Force had his son–?!

"Luke," Vader hissed lowly, not daring to break eye contact with the Emperor, "go to the other room."

Palpatine's eyes focussed on his son, and his deformed face twisted into a brief, horrible grin that sent Vader's stomach clenching in dread. The Emperor knew of Luke and had even spoken to – _at_, really; Luke had been too rooted with horror to even breathe – the boy before over holoprojector. By accepting missions to the most obscure, distant regions of the galaxy, Vader had taken great pains to never give the Sith any opportunity to interact with the boy directly, and secretly feared the day they had to leave the safety of the _Exactor_ for his palace in Coruscant. As a result of his diligence, hostilities on several planets had been cowed, bringing the possibility of a recall even closer.

Vader suddenly wished for some form of rebellion to break out, so he could avoid Coruscant even longer. He was certain the Emperor would insist on his return and an inspection of his offspring for his Force potential and his susceptibility to being moulded.

And if he was found lacking, or too strong-willed…

Vader tightened his mind shields.

The Emperor turned his attention back to his frozen apprentice, saying wryly, "Would you like to talk later, Lord Vader?"

"Dad! Dad!" Luke persisted, each word punctuated by a sharp poke.

"No, Master," Vader forced out, trying to subtly push Luke away with the Force.

"Dad! Dad! _Dad_!"

"Because I can," Emperor Palpatine continued with a deceptively acceding tilt of his head.

_Luke!_ Vader hissed into the boy's mind. _Go outside and play._

The boy seemed agitated, his mind churning with worry and slight fear of the holoprojection before them. Fleetingly, Vader wondered what it was that Luke would voluntarily enter the communications chamber for; he would usually wait in their quarters for his father rather than risk conversing with Palpatine. The boy's answer obliterated Vader's concern, though.

_But Crumbles has –_

_I hold no concern for your _pet_, Luke, go _outside_._

With a quick, furtive glance at the now definitely amused holoprojection, Luke attempted an awkward bow and retreated. Vader heard the doors open and shut but followed the boy's signature out the door to be certain. He breathed, and dared not move.

"A tenacious child," Emperor Palpatine spoke in the ensuing dead silence, bar his respirator. "A young Skywalker indeed."

Uneasy, Vader agreed with a subservient, "Yes, Master."

Thankfully, Palpatine moved on to inquire on his dealings with the Outer Rim planets, and an update on the Bank of Aargau. Vader jumped on the report, trying to hide his enthusiasm. They discussed politics at length, a droll pastime Vader usually avoided when in Coruscant but fairly amusing from afar if only to disdain other people's greed and incompetence. He could only hope that was enough to distract interest from their initial subject, but to no avail. At the end of his report, waiting painfully for dismissal, Vader almost slumped when Palpatine decided to continue.

"Has your offspring begun to demonstrate aptitude with the Force, my apprentice?" Palpatine questioned, most likely pretending to be oblivious to the other Sith's impatience.

The crew had seen Luke use the Force; there was no point in lying with the knowledge that the Emperor's spies had already reported him. Even on his own ship, Vader admitted bitterly, the Emperor's Hand stretched its influence. Vader answered truthfully that Luke had.

"You have said that he was found in the presence of Obi-wan Kenobi," the Emperor spat out the latter part of the sentence with acidic hatred.

"Yes, Master. However, his interactions with the Jedi were limited enough that he barely remembers." A lie, hidden artfully by letting his anger at his old master flare.

"And yet Kenobi has been observed travelling towards those planets sympathetic to the obstructers of our cause." The Emperor's narrowed gaze pinned down the black-clad man, the Sith-yellow superimposed in Vader's mind by how livid he appeared. For a moment, Vader felt like a young man, frightened, desperate and uncertain of the power revealed by Palpatine for the first time. "Perhaps he intends to rally support and retrieve the boy? To cultivate him as his own apprentice?"

Fear, bitter cold and debilitating, stabbed at Vader's chest, but he replied evenly, "He has always fought for lost causes."

The Emperor looked disdainful as he snarled, "The son of Skywalker must not become a Jedi."

The prospect and the image it brought forth was enough to sicken Vader. Luke, absorbing the flawed teachings of Kenobi and wearing those brown robes of weakness and servitude…wielding a lightsaber from across the battlefield of his own father… His gloves protested softly as he clenched his fists, an ugly emotion beating at the walls of his tight control and threatening to overcome his shields.

"He will be turned," Vader vowed, as firmly as possible without sounding defiant, "and become a powerful ally."

"Yes. Yes," Palpatine waved aside his insistence. "There is no doubt that he would be a great asset. Can it be done?"

"He will join his father, my master." _He must._

"And become _our_ apprentice," Palpatine emphasised with a sneer.

"Yes, Master," Vader hurriedly sought to assuage the burst of anger with a submissive bow of his head. He waited with bated breath, though his suit automatically continued its respiration cycles without him.

"See to it that he begins his training, Lord Vader. I will personally conduct further learning once you return to Coruscant."

"Yes, my Master."

With those words, the hologram flicked out of existence, leaving Darth Vader alone in the chamber. Slowly, he rose.

_Their_ apprentice, he said.

Was this arrogance, or a deliberate test? Sidious should know how powerful Luke would be once he matured; even light-years away, the Force surely sang with his presence. Luke could never be restricted to the level of a mere Dark Jedi, practitioners of the dark side but not of Sith techniques, that the Sith permitted to serve them. Unsatisfied by the meagre Sith techniques teased in front of him during his beginnings as Sidious' apprentice, never fully taught, never fully honed, Vader had sought other forms of teachings other than under Palpatine's selective hand. And Darth Bane's words on the Sith shone in every one.

_Two there should be; no more, no less. _An endless cycle of usurping and back-stabbing.

Luke had the power, the sheer raw potential, to become everything his father was meant to be had Mustafar not occurred. He had promised himself, after Kashyyyk(1), that he would find a worthy apprentice strong enough to compensate for his mutilated body, to overthrow Sidious, and to seize control of the Empire. And who could be more worthy, more powerful, and – most importantly, for it was in the Sith's nature to betray one another – more _loyal_, than his own son?

Together, they would rule the galaxy.

So enthralled by his dreams of the future, Darth Vader did not realise he had marched out of the communications chamber and into son's back; the impact of the slight weight barely registered.

"_Ow_!" was Luke's pained protest, blinking rapidly face-down on the floor.

Darth Vader's focus narrowed into an abrupt, single point as he swooped down, turning his son over to gently cradle his head and support his back.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, already letting the Force rush over the boy's body and his eyes scanning for injury. Dazed, but not harmed, thank the Force. He let out a reassured breath, and then snapped, "What were you doing by the door?"

With the resilience of a child, or a rubber ball, Luke beamed back up at him despite his somewhat harsh tone. He wriggled out of his father's hold, who was too relieved to protest, and immediately tugged at the kneeling Sith Lord's cape.

"Waiting for you, dad!" Luke snickered as if it were obvious. "C'mon, we gotta go save Crumbles from Commander Bow! He's prob'ly bantha fodder by now!"

Waiting for him? Darth Vader was sure he'd talked with the Emperor extensively. Had his son been standing outside the hallway for an hour?

"My legs are tired," Luke declared, staring expectantly at him as he drew to his full height.

Without protest, the Sith picked up the small boy and when he pointed, Darth Vader indulgently allowed him to steer their direction.

Plans of galactic domination were postponed that day.

* * *

**AN:** Emperor Palpatine, everyone. Free manipulations with every conversion to the dark side.

(1) Kashyyyk was the invasion that really got Darth Vader's name whispered in fear. It was during the very early stages of the Empire, when he was still becoming used to his suit and becoming confident in his Sith-ness enough to contemplate overthrowing the Emperor with an apprentice. _Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader_ is a good book too, if you're looking for something more serious.

Also, did you know that Galen Marek (Darth Vader's apprentice "Starkiller") was born in the same year as Luke Skywalker and essentially kick-started the Rebel Alliance after turning on his master? Wrench, I'd like to introduce you to my plans!

Thank you for reading!

Next Time: Luke's "pet" is introduced.

Sometime: Moustache, lessons in the Force, the 501st Legion specialising in babysitters.


	4. Can We Keep It?

**Darth Vader and Son**

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Their world rightfully belongs to their respective creators. I'm just tinkering with it a little/lot.

Thank you to everyone who has invested their time and effort into reading this. Over 500 visitors! It's been a couple of days, so two chapters for you all.

This chapter is based off 2 pages in the book.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Can We Keep It?**

Luke was homesick.

Which was, in Darth Vader's opinion, absolutely ridiculous, for what child could possibly miss a miserable, desolate dustbowl that was scorched by not one, but two suns? Though, perhaps his time as a slave during his juvenile years skewed his opinion. The child that was Anakin, eons ago, had been attached to the place only for his mother throughout his Jedi training years. When his mother was killed (_tortured, murdered by_ beasts _for no reason_, Vader snarledin his mind, old wounds reopening), all attachments were severed with brutal efficiency. Once he turned to the dark side, he only allowed himself to be consumed in rage at the remnants of the weakling Anakin that he saw embodied in the planet.

It was the discovery of his son, free, safe and _alive_, that caused his hatred for the planet to subside, if only slightly.

But it still did not mean he couldn't help the harsh dismissal of his son's request to visit his aunt and uncle.

"But da-ad, it's been ages!" Luke protested, tugging at his cape with a pitiful frown. "Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen pro'lly miss me heaps!"

_Do not look into his eyes_, Darth Vader reminded himself, steeling his resolve. The boy wasn't even directly related to the Lars! He told him as much, citing that as step-brothers, Vader was not related to Owen, and therefore Luke wasn't required to care for them at all. He turned back to his work on revaluating a treaty for loopholes. After a few minutes of unusual silence, he made the mistake of glancing at the boy.

Luke's eyes had filled with sorrowful tears and his lip was quivering. The Force seemed to tremble in sympathy around the boy.

"Does that mean they never loved me?" he sobbed, tears spilling over his reddening cheeks.

The Dark Lord of the Sith cursed the universe.

Which was how Vader ended up agreeing to head a raid to Jabba Desilijic Tiure's palace on Tatooine while his son was escorted by armed guards to the Lars homestead.

* * *

Luke felt warm and happy, hugging Aunt Beru around the shoulders as he was settled into her lap. His father's stormtroopers had set up a perimeter outside to give the Lars abode some privacy as well as diligently watching over their charge. Luke had been embarrassed at first to find himself crying into his aunt's apron, but felt much better when he saw that she was too. Uncle Owen, sitting across from him, had even shaken his hand like a grown-up and patted him on the back!

He wished his father was here, though. The man didn't seem to like his aunt and uncle very much.

But he didn't let that bring his mood down, chattering excitedly to his uncle and aunt on his many adventures, some greatly exaggerated in his enthusiasm. They let him speak, one with an indulgent grin and the other with gruff but no less happy smile. In the pauses where he stopped to breathe or drink from a glass of blue milk, they would ask questions. They were mostly on his father, though.

"Does your father feed you well?" Beru asked gently, smoothing his hair that had seemed to stand up on end in response to his excitement. Her strokes with a comb were soothing and familiar. "You've gained some weight, young man!"

Luke beamed, nodding his head frantically and taking a gulp of his glass of blue milk. "There's lots of food on the _Exactor_ and dad lets me have sweets if I'm good, but not that many 'cause he says it'll make my teeth grow funny. But I really missed your giju stew!"

"'Course you did," Uncle Owen declared with pride, clapping the boy on the back in approval, "best giju stew on this side of the galaxy."

Beru blushed, and proceeded as if she hadn't heard anything, "Before you visit next time, send us a message, Luke. I'll make a nice big batch for you to take into space."

Luke agreed wholeheartedly. The day rolled by, with Luke running around the homestead and finding very little had changed, even his emptier room. Aunt Beru looked quite sad when he jumped onto his bed, though, so he quickly lead them around the back to place some flowers over his grandmother's grave. He wondered why his father didn't visit as well.

Later, Owen asked with frowning seriousness, "Your father hasn't tried to teach you anything you don't want to learn, has he?"

Luke was confused, copying his frown as he said, "You mean like the Force? I like the Force!"

"Owen!" Beru chided with a sharp nudge of her elbow. "Let the boy enjoy his time with his father."

Rubbing his side, Owen continued nonetheless, "If you ever feel uncomfortable, hurt or scared, you head on back over here, Luke. Don't care how, hell, steal a starfighter if you gotta. Do you understand me?"

"Yessir!" Luke barked, saluting like the 501st had taught him when replying to that question. He didn't think he'd ever feel that with his father, though, but if it made his uncle happy, he would agree.

Owen nodded in satisfaction, and ruffled the boy's meticulously flattened hair. He pretended to ignore his wife's chilling stare, but winced internally when she pulled out a comb from her pockets again with more force than usual.

"Excuse me, sir, ma'am," a stormtrooper – Russ, if Luke remembered his markings correctly – interrupted, "it is time for Luke to leave."

"Already?" whined Luke as Beru efficiently combed his hair again. "I don't want to."

"Don't worry, Luke," she soothed him, "you'll see us again before you know it."

"Go along to your father," Owen grudgingly agreed. "He probably has something much more exciting for you to look at than this old moisture farm."

Since Luke still looked mutinous, Russ added, "Your father has sent word on our coms that we can meet him at Jabba's Palace."

While Luke was gasping, Owen shot a disapproving glare at the clone. "That's a bit dangerous for a 4-year-old, trooper."

"It's completely deserted, sir," Russ pacified. "They were apparently warned."

"Humph. Imperials. Never getting anything done."

Luke paid no heed to his uncle's displeasure, swiftly kissing Beru on the cheek, hugging Owen's leg, and shooting out the door with a yelled, "Bye Aunt Beru, bye Uncle Owen!"

Russ was left staring at the space the boy had vacated, stunned by his speed.

"You better go after him," sighed Owen to the bemused Russ. "He'll run straight into trouble if you don't, then what'll your boss say?"

Russ knew _exactly_ what Lord Vader would say; he ran out the door with a yelp.

* * *

"This is boring," Luke complained after the initial excitement of the palace's lavish interior wore off.

Commander Bow remained in a taciturn silence, keeping vigil over the boy as his fellow stormtroopers accompanied Lord Vader in a last-minute scan of the area upstairs. He knew the importance of the task the Sith Lord had assigned to him, but it still felt like he was just a glorified babysitter. A commander, successor of the famed Commander Appo, reduced to watching over a child in a seedy throne room that once held a notorious Hutt. At least the task was simple enough. One eye on the boy, another eye on the exits, blaster primed and ready, but set to stun just in case. Bow thought he detected movement to the side, near the abandoned food platters, and turned to investigate –

"Gaaah!" Luke suddenly yelled, followed by the sound of a _thump_.

Whirling around, Commander Bow felt his heart seize and slam into his throat when the boy was nowhere to be found.

"Luke?!" he yelled, swinging his blaster up and scanning the room. "Come on, little guy, don't play any tricks on me!"

There was a pitiful moan. Bow's eyes lit on the partially-opened pit on the floor. _Oh no._ _Oh_ _nononononono – kriff_!

The roar of the rancor shook the building.

Lord Vader was going to _eviscerate_ him.

* * *

"_What_."

Commander Bow tried to remain standing straight at attention when Darth Vader loomed over him. The Sith Lord had already dispensed with questioning inflections, stating his words with deathly rage. The clone did not attempt to repeat his explanation like so many incompetent officers before their execution; he knew Lord Vader had listened to every word he'd said. The tightening pressure he felt around his windpipe was not enough to make him choke, but a clear sign of impending death nonetheless.

He'd attempted to call down to the boy once he snapped out of his shock with military efficiency, even leaning into the rancor pit in desperation. He'd seen a limp – not lifeless, _please_ not lifeless – body on the skeleton-ridden floor, but before he could jump down and attempt a swift rescue, the rancor lumbered into view. When he'd been met with a mouthful of teeth, he attempted some blaster shots but ceased when he realised that due to the cavernous nature of the pit, the shots could ricochet into the boy. _T__hat_ would have guaranteed him a much longer death.

He'd retreated on shaking legs, and commed for reinforcement. Perhaps the boy was not eaten just yet? Did rancors like live, struggling prey, in order to play with its food?

Darth Vader had just happened to enter the throne room in the instant that thought entered his mind.

Commander Bow had snapped to attention and explained what happened in quick, to-the-point sentences that he knew the man appreciated. To his pride, his voice only shook slightly. His men surrounded them; if he was to go down, he would do so with dignity. Unreadable behind his mask, Vader turned his head towards the rancor pit. The seasoned troopers surrounding them recognised the concentration in that movement, a sign of his feared and respected supernatural powers in the works. For a moment, no one moved or dared to breathe.

_Snap-hiss_ went his crimson lightsaber.

"You are lucky that he is still alive," Vader addressed Bow, his voice barely controlled as he placed his lightsaber close to the commander's neck. Red filled his stormtrooper helmet's vision. "It is a pity. I was rather fond of you, Commander."

"Yes sir." Bow merely saluted, knowing it was pointless to plead when he had failed so spectacularly. He braced himself.

Before the blade could descend, a little voice echoed out from the pit.

"Oww, my head…" Luke moaned dolefully, unaware that his voice caused all the men to freeze above him. He blinked into consciousness.

And blinked again; he must be dreaming. All he could see were teeth in a large, lumpy face, deeply lined and not at all human. It took a moment, but Luke recognised it from _100,001 Beasts of the Outer Rim Territories: Interactive Hologram Edition_ his father had given him_. _A rancor: a giant cari-caniv-orus lizard-mammal. He then noticed that he was held in one of its huge, clawed hands, the flat face right in front of his. Strangely, there was an earring in one of its ears. It didn't look very happy, though.

"Hello!" Luke greeted, smiling brightly.

"Luke," Vader hurriedly sought to assuage his son before he could surely scream in horror, "do not move. Try not to make any sound. I will get you out of there at once."

"Hey dad!" Luke immediately shouted back. "I found a _rancor_! Can we keep it?"

* * *

Malakili, the beast's keeper, had stayed behind as he was unable to part with his beloved rancor. He'd shakily explained to Darth Vader that the rancor, having been isolated for years, probably thought Luke was an infant version of the species, causing it/her to place him on her back in a typical nursing way. Luke rode on the beast's back, unconcerned with his father's and stormtroopers' stares, happily hugging the – was it _crooning_? – rancor's neck. Malakili then went on to explain that the rancor was a rather maternal creature, though they had been known to eat their young at times.

He let out a nervous laugh.

Vader was not amused.

He'd kept his lightsaber ignited and proceeded to point it at the sweating man.

"Where are its weak points?" Vader demanded.

The keeper let out an incoherent whimper.

"Dad!" Luke yelled, ignoring his father's previous advice to keep quiet in case he aggravated the beast. He hugged the rancor tighter; its long arm came up to pat him rather roughly on the head. "You can't kill her! She's just lonely! Can't we kee–"

"No," Vader dismissed immediately. "Get out of their immediately before it turns on you. A rancor is not a pet. It belongs in a zoo."

"Really?" exclaimed Malakili and Luke together, delighted.

"A nice zoo with lots of food!" Luke continued before Vader could rescind his statement. That was not what he meant. At all.

"…Fine," Vader sighed, already thinking of the paperwork needed.

"And other rancors to play with?"

"Perhaps not."

"Can we visit her?"

"Yes. If you get out of that pit immediately."

"And lots of space to run in?" Malakili interrupted hopefully, caught in the enthusiasm of Luke.

Vader turned to the keeper with a clear glare that made him cower.

* * *

With the rancor secure, Malakili far from his sight, and Luke safely within his protection, Darth Vader felt like he could almost relax. He'd sent the stormtroopers, including the humbled Commander Bow, to fetch their shuttle while he waited for Luke to finish rummaging around the throne room.

There was a scuffle, with several goblets being knocked over as Luke suddenly dove into a pile of pillows.

"Dad! Dad!" yelped Luke, causing him to rush over in alarm.

His son was holding a reddish-brown, yellow-eyed, beaked creature_._ Vader suddenly wished he'd brought the boy a puppy when he'd had the chance.

It blinked blearily at them, belly distended from all the food it had consumed.

"Luke, put down that Kowakian monkey-lizard this instant," Darth Vader snapped with distaste, putting his hands on his hips.

He'd heard of the creature's reputation for malice and cackling; he would not let it near his son within the same planet.

"Can we keep him?" Luke barrelled on, smiling brightly at it.

"What." Darth Vader thought it was time to fulfil his son's need for a pet with a fish, or some other harmless creature.

"_It? It?! I am Salacious B. Crumb, you puny snack! Wait until Jabba gets here, he'll eat you up in a single gulp!_" the creature snarled in a mixture of Huttese and other languages it had learnt while at Jabba's court.

Luke did not understand the words, but caught enough to exclaim, "Sally! We'll call you Sally!"

"Luke, we're not –" Darth Vader began.

"_Sally?! I am Salacious Crumb!_" the creature hissed, one clawed hand rising with the intent to strike.

Instantly, Darth Vader seized it with the Force, applying crushing pressure to its wrist. It howled.

"Dad!" Luke reproachfully cried, hugging the shrieking creature to his chest and seemingly oblivious to the ear-splitting noise.

Vader noticed with some satisfaction that the way his son was holding the monkey-lizard caused it to choke around the arm pressing at its throat.

"_Guh! Little brat –_" Salacious Crumb suddenly paused, beady yellow eyes flicking to the menacing figure of the Sith Lord. Something clicked, and it cackled madly.

Darth Vader narrowed his eyes as the monkey-lizard started rubbing its diseased (most likely) head on his son's chest, long ears twitching. It let out a pathetic whimper and nudged his broken wrist at the thrilled boy's face.

"Dad! It likes me!" Luke giggled. "I think I'll call you Crumbles instead!"

So that's what it was playing at.

"We are not keeping that thing," Darth Vader stated with the firm authority of a father and Sith Lord. "I will not permit it anywhere near my ship. Lock it in the palace and let us leave."

The monkey-lizard wailed, "_I'll starve! I'll waste away! C'mon, stupid boy, beg the kriffing sithspawn!_"

Darth Vader was about to crush the creature's organs for using such language – Luke's tears be damned – when Luke turned his overly-large, pleading eyes to him.

"No. That is final."

* * *

The creature newly dubbed Crumbles was taking shelter from the sun in the skull of a krayt dragon nearby, probably planning something devious. Vader hoped Luke would somehow forget to retrieve the abomination and rid them of its ill temper. They were waiting in the desert, for the shuttle that was arriving to pick them up had gotten sand in its gearbox, Force knows how, and the two suns were sufficiently low enough to not pose the threat of heatstroke.

"Look, Dad!" Luke exclaimed, holding up a ring of glittering metal. "Droids!"

"Mm-hm," Vader hummed distractedly, flipping through an obscure instruction manual on lightsaber techniques as he lounged on an abandoned chair. He'd found the volume in a dusty corner of Jabba's banquet spread, used to level a rickety table. "That's nice, son."

_Hmm, that will be useful_, Vader thought, dog-earing the page for later. All he needed were some Jedi to practice on.

"_Oh_ thank goodness! Someone's there!"

The Sith froze, halfway through turning a page. He knew that mechanised voice. Slowly, he slid the book down to peer over the top in askance. Luke was digging around the ground, scooping sand away with his hands to reveal…a pair of golden legs? Was the Force determined to give him a heart palpitation today?

"C-3PO?" Vader dared to ask.

"Oh!" came the muffled voice. "Did you hear that, Artoo? Someone knows my designation! Hello up there! Could you please get us out, sir?"

"Boo-beep-boop!" _What a landing!_

"R2-D2?" Vader exclaimed, book forgotten as he swung himself off the chair to stride closer to his son's excavation efforts.

"Whirr?!" _Who's that?!_

Even after years, Vader could still recall the droid language he had picked up as a slave child working as a mechanic. He'd built Threepio; he knew every part of the droid inside and out. Those were definitely his feet and shins – and suddenly, a periscope poked out of the sand along with a blue, domed head.

Vader stood still as an obsidian pillar, contemplating the whims of the Force. Surely it was responsible for continuously drawing him back to this godsforsaken planet. First for his son, and then for the droids that had accompanied him through his youth. It was unwise to ignore such overt prompting, but to what end? These constant reminders of his past life… _No_. Vader flexed his mechanical hand, the one first cut off by Dooku. There was no sense in reconnecting with his weak self. The Force was more likely to be guiding him to what rightfully belonged to him.

A brief wave of anger rushed over him; he harnessed its power and pulled the droids from their confines in a shower of golden sand. Luke cried out in delight as they were settled onto the ground on their sides, rushing over to the confusedly whirling Artoo to help him up. Threepio was left sprawled on his back, exclaiming over the indignity of the situation.

"An astromech!" Luke hugged the little droid, who made a happy little chirping sound. His arms didn't quite fit all the way around; he let go with a huff. "Hello! I'm Luke Skywalker!"

Darth Vader watched in interest as Artoo seemed to perk at the surname, while Threepio remained unaffected. Had his former friend forgotten him – _Anakin_, Vader made the harsh distinction – completely?

"Veep-voop?!" Artoo exclaimed, body tilting forward. My_ master Skywalker?!_

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Artoo," Threepio dismissed and sat up to address Luke. "Hello, I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. I am a protocol droid and fluent in over 6 mil– oh my word! Behind you, young master!"

He'd evidentially caught sight of Darth Vader, then. Artoo let out a low whir of fear.

Luke giggled and tried to calm them with, "That's my dad, Darth Vader. Don't worry; he looks scary but he's really nice."

"Luke," Darth Vader started, feeling vaguely perturbed at a Sith Lord being described as anything akin to _nice_, but Artoo interrupted.

"_Master Anakin?_" Artoo whined, rolling awkwardly forward in the sand. A flash of rage, potent and menacing, caused Darth Vader to dismiss whatever remnant feelings he had for the droid to the side.

He pointed a threatening finger at the astromech, intoning with deathly seriousness, "That name holds no meaning for me, droid. You would do well to forget it."

Maybe he was losing his touch; the little droid merely booped in delight, even going as far as to bump into Vader's legs with an Artoo equivalent of a squee. Vader, bewildered and a bit offended, felt his hand wilt back to his side.

Did no one respect the power of the dark side anymore?

"_It _is_ you!_" Artoo beeped. "_Master Anakin Skywalker! Threepio, he rebuilt you!"_

"I recall no such thing!" Threepio huffed, though he warily stepped away from the Sith Lord as if in fear of being disassembled.

"Dad! You can understand droids? That's so wizard! What's he saying?" Luke finally piped out, curiosity in the way his head tilted to the side.

Vader decided to answer before Threepio could. "This is R2-D2, Luke. These droids…I was once their owner." A pained pause. "I gave them to your mother."

"Well," Threepio flustered, "it is a pleasure to remake your acquaintances, Master Vader. I assume."

Artoo let out a thoughtful boop-whine. A panel moved on the silver droid's body and a light flickered on. Suddenly, Vader found his body locking and respirator stuttering as a familiar, miniaturised holofigure appeared in the sand. _No._

"Is that mum?" Luke exclaimed in innocent awe, reaching towards Artoo's projection as if to reunite with the long-dead figure. "She's pretty!"

The Force help him, Vader almost did so too. It was the worst kind of torture seeing his son kneeling down to the fake figure, a captured memory, one that should have been here in real life. She was in her wedding dress – his angel – _t__he happiest moment of my life, _suppressed memories rushing back with painful clarity – Mustafar – Obi-wan, all-consuming rage – _Anakin…You're breaking my heart _– fireburninglava_pain_ – _It seems in your anger you_–

The droids and Luke cried out Artoo's holoprojector exploded in a shower of sparks. The little droid shrieked in panic, but was otherwise unharmed.

"Oh no," Luke sighed, "the sand must've got in it!" Artoo whined over Threepio's mutterings of _Oh my_. "Don't worry, dad'll fix it. He can fix anything, right dad?"

Vader agreed absently, unclenching his fist.

"A mechanic? How convenient," Threepio added happily, "we've been requiring maintenance for several months now. If we could be permitted to accompany you, sirs, we would be most grateful."

Luke then turned wide, sparkling eyes to his father. The Sith Lord was immediately wary. Those eyes had brought him nothing but trouble that day.

"Can we keep them, dad?" Luke pleaded, clutching Artoo to him like he was some kind of oversized toy, much to the astromech's delight. "Please? I'll take care of them and clean them and they won't be any bother!"

Vader sighed, his hand almost reflexively reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose had it not been covered by his mask. Time to try a different approach instead of outright refusing, as that had worked _so well_ thus far. He launched into a lecture on droid maintenance, exaggerating how difficult and time consuming the effort was to keep droids. Attempting to appeal to his son's stubborn sense of right and wrong, he added that they should give them back to their proper owners. Wouldn't they miss the droids? The boy was unfazed, though.

"But you owned them before and we found them, and I don't see anyone looking for them. You saved them from rusting in the sand, so we can keep them!"

Childish logic. How was he supposed to argue against that? Darth Vader was never one for diplomacy. And Luke kept tugging at his cloak.

"…Fine."

Luke crowed in triumph, scuttling over to hug C-3PO and then run circles around the celebrating R2-D2.

Disturbed by the commotion, Crumbles emerged from its lair. A blur of reddish-brown launched itself onto Threepio, and sharp claws and teeth tried to rip out his photoreceptors.

"No! Bad Crumbles!" Luke shouted ineffectively over the droid's shrieking. "Threepio's part of the family now!"

"Beast!" Threepio yelled, flailing as he tried to get the creature off his face. "Help! Master Skywalker! Artoo!"

Seeing Artoo approach with an electric zapper rather too close to his son, Darth Vader decided to intervene. With a grimace, he swatted the lizard-monkey away with the Force. It landed unharmed, but immediately began yowling, rolling to its side in a picture of innocent agony. With a horrified gasp, Luke instantly fussed over the creature, clutching it close to his chest and bemoaning on how mean his father was hitting Crumbles like that. Unseen by the boy, Salacious B. Crumb silently opened its mouth to a cackle at Vader through its fake whimpers.

Vader debated the value of Force-crushing it right there in front of his son.

Between Luke's reassurances, the creature's cries, Artoo's beeping and Threepio's grousing, Vader felt a headache bloom.

He amended his earlier thought.

He still hated Tatooine

* * *

**AN**: According to the wiki, Luke later stated he was regretful for killing the rancor, but it had been too abused to be rehabilitated. 20-ish years before that point, I think it would be a less ferocious, happier little critter. Also, I have made it female now. Evil.

Next Time: A smaller chapter. Features moustaches. Will be posted immediately.

Some Time: Holidays, a visit to the zoo, bed time


	5. Think Before You Speak

**Darth Vader and Son**

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to everyone!

**IMPORTANT** (I think): This chapter was posted at the same time as the previous. You can go back and read the other one if you haven't already.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Think Before You Speak**

"Lemme go!" Luke yelled, twisting in the stormtrooper's grasp.

He could tell the surrounding troopers were not from the 501st Legion; they didn't have that familiar feeling all his father's troops seemed to have. They were strangers, which was Not Good. They'd grabbed him when he accidentally ran into one of them, searching for Artoo and Threepio. He didn't even want to call his father through the Force for help, for the man was talking to the Emperor in that big chamber Luke tried to avoid. It was up to the son; he felt he could fend off a bunch of strangers.

The leader was a man in an official hat and a funny moustache, black as coal but his cropped hair was turning silvery. Luke would've been fascinated by the difference at any other time, but as his shoulder was grasped painfully in the man's claw-like hand, he was too busy struggling.

"What are you doing on this vessel?" the man demanded, giving what he saw as the urchin that had rudely stumbled into him a light shake.

_Son? _Vader's voice suddenly prodded into his mind. _What is happening? I can feel your distress._

_Nothing!_ Luke replied, hastily trying to cover his feelings. _Everything's perfectly fine! I'm fine! Keep talking to the blue wrinkly man!_

_Luke –_

"Answer me!" barked moustache man, impatient at the pause Luke had used to concentrate.

"It's my home!" Luke fiercely, to him as least, snarled. The stranger had interrupted his dad, so he was going to be rude as well. "Whadda _you_ doing here?"

He bristled. "Watch your tone, _boy_. I am Captain Sankaran. I am here on official business that does not concern the likes of you." He shook the child again. "Are you not aware of this ship's importance? Where are your parents? I will have them demoted for letting you on-board!"

Luke didn't know what that meant, but he understood the threatening tone enough. He puffed up his shoulders in an infant sense of pride.

"You can't do that!" he asserted confidently before bringing a thumb to gesture at his chest. "My dad's the _boss_. He says so! So you better lemme go, mister, or my father'll make you hold your breath until you'll be all purple! Then he'll throw you into the bri-uh-bridge!"

Sankaran scoffed. The stormtrooper to his left shifted uneasily.

"An arrogant officer, then," Sankaran concluded with a sneer. "I'll make sure he knows his place." Luke tried to bite him. He snarled. "Perhaps a night in a cell will put out your fire."

The contingent of strangers began moving, Luke's collar grasped in one stormtrooper's hand and his shoulder in Sankaran's. He protested and kicked, wriggling and biting, but could not get free. Tired, he ended up meekly allowing himself to be dragged, resentfully plotting his escape in the most dramatic of fashions. If he could just reach into his belt-pouch, he could trip one up with his string…

He cast a covert look behind him to judge if anyone was looking at his hands, but spotted something better instead.

"Dad!" Luke cried, face instantly splitting in an ear-to-ear grin.

Captain Sankaran turned, ready to give a scalding dressing down to the irresponsible person who permitted a _child_ on Darth Vader's esteemed flagship –

Only to be faced with the man himself, stalking towards them like a black demon from hell. From the direction from where he came, the captain speculated he'd just concluded transmissions with the Emperor, a notion supported by his more rigid stance and the wave of supernatural coldness that preceded him. Sankaran remembered the same chill from his previous tenure working with the Sith Lord, an ice-cold, shiver-inducing sensation that seemed more oppressive than he remembered. Instead of being merely disquieting, the air around Darth Vader seemed to roil with anger, causing his towering figure to loom with even more menace.

The stormtrooper to Captain Sankaran's left suddenly let go of their impromptu prisoner and scurried away to meld with a wall. Puzzled, Sankaran craned his head; perhaps the boy's father was being dwarfed by Darth Vader's height? He suddenly recalled the boy's words from earlier.

_So you better lemme go, mister, or my father'll make you hold your breath until you'll be all purple!_

For a moment, it did not compute. The facts were there. The evidence seething towards them. The idea tumbled into his mind, but did not connect with brain until he felt the tightening of the air around his throat. He gasped with difficulty. _No…that's impossible!_

"Luke," Darth Vader addressed the boy, but his mask was directly facing Sankaran's rapidly paling face. "What have you done now?"

"Da-ad! I didn't even do anything this time!" Luke confirmed Snkaran's fears with a cross of his arms.

Somehow, he was frozen in place in horror and could not even let go of the squirming boy's shirt.

"My Lord, the boy looked lost and I –" the captain's numb mouth opened to say something – anything – in his defence, but Vader silenced him with a minute tightening around his neck. The Sith Lord turned to the boy for his answer. Perhaps, if the child could play along, tell Vader he'd been attempting to assist the boy back to his quarters…

"This stranger just grabbed me," Luke doomed Sankaran instantly, pointing at the Imperial officer's rapidly constricting chest. "And he didn't let go even when I said you're my dad!"

Just shove him into the Ancient Abyss at Felucia; it would be easier to be eaten by a sarlacc than this. Less painful, too. Regaining some sense, Captain Sankaran stood sharply at attention, only allowing himself a brief flick of his gaze to the blond-haired boy. He could feel a bead of sweat roll down past his staunchly rigid neck, into his starched collar.

His assortment of stormtroopers chose to abandon him completely, melting into the background and helmets determinedly faced anywhere but in his direction. He decided he would curse them bitterly with his last breath.

"Captain," Darth Vader rumbled into the deathly silence, "if you would be so kind as to release my son."

It was not a question.

Sankaran's hand gave an involuntary spasm in his haste to let go of the boy's shoulder, drawing his whole body back as if burned. He might have well been; he could feel Vader's stare blazing behind his mask, drilling holes with its intensity and cauterising with its anger. The captain resigned himself to death. Quickly, he tried to remember if he'd written a will and included that obscure relative from Naboo just to spite his money-grabbing family. He could already practically feel those invisible fingers wringing the life out of him.

It had been proven that the Sith was more prone to unplanned executions after a conversation with the Emperor, the reason all experienced officers had an agreement to warn each other when a transmission came through. They would avoid the armoured man like some contagious biological virus, sending all messages by less knowledgeable ensigns that may or may not return alive, if not whole and traumatised.

As if replaced by a steel rod, Sankaran's back straightened impossibly with his arms pinned to his sides and feet planted to the ground. Fear rendered his voice mute, unable to beg for forgiveness.

The Dark Lord of the Sith addressed his son, voice conversational as if he did not have a stranglehold on the other man, "Competent officers are hard to find, but sometimes you must be ready to weed out the weak. Remember this, Luke."

The boy nodded, trustingly leaning on the Sith Lord's leg as he watched proceedings with a troubled face.

"Forgive me, Lord Vader!" Sankaran's voice unstuck enough for him to beseech in desperation. "I should have known he was your son!"

He had the feeling at Darth Vader was blinking behind his mask. The pressure decreased slightly around his neck.

"Explain," Vader demanded roughly. His thoughts whirled; had someone leaked information on his son into the outside world? He needed to crush those rumours before they became a threat. If they carried to the budding resistance forming in some worlds, or, Force forbid, to his competent enemies... "What have you heard?"

"Nothing!" Sankaran hastened to reassure him. "No one knows about him! I didn't even know about him! Er," he tried to search for another reason, perhaps keep himself alive for a little longer, "he looks just like you, Lord Vader."

The stormtrooper to his left snorted.

There was complete silence. Darth Vader's breathing seemed to halt in disbelief. Even Luke didn't know what to say, staring at him with wide eyes.

Instantly, he kicked himself to the Outer Rim and back, cringing behind his ever-so slightly twitching moustache. He was dead. He'd just signed and stamped his own death certificate. Cause of death: stupidity.

Strangely, though, his neck was suddenly released, allowing him to wheeze in a lungful of air.

The Sith Lord did not even look at him, turning around with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. While Sankaran was still wondering what had happened, the Sith Lord strode down the hall with his son (his _son_ of all things; if Sankaran discovered who knew and did not tell him, he'd blast them in the face) closely in tow. Sankaran's knees shook and he sagged against the wall, hat askew and military propriety abandoned.

The boy had to gall to lean back as they turned around the corner, waving cheekily at the frozen Captain and his men with a smile.

That stormtrooper to his left waved back.

Captain Sankaran reminded himself to write down the trooper's designation once he could stand properly.

* * *

**AN**: Yes, I actually searched up "star wars imperial officer moustache" for Captain Sankaran's name.

He has a moustache, so he deserves to be named. And poor Darth Vader. He's surrounded by incompetents.

Thanks for reading!

Next time: The perils of bed time.

Some time: A tour. The 501st Legion. Darth Vader attempts to teach his son the Force.


	6. Bedtime Perils

**Darth Vader and Son**

Disclaimer: George Lucas and co. have genius. Jeffrey Brown has talent. I can has cheezburger.

Thank you to the reviewers, alerters, favouriters, and you anonymous regular and occasionally part-time readers.

800 visitors? Oh, you guys…

**Of vague import: **Again, if you haven't read **Chapter 4**, which was posted at the same time as **Chapter 5**, feel free to journey back.

This chapter is based on 3 of the illustrations.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Bedtime ****Perils**

For the first few weeks, Darth Vader had been satisfied with his newly discovered son's behaviour. Though quiet as a wide-eyed mouse, the boy was willing to follow basic orders while he trailed behind his father like a little shadow, taking in the new environment. When around new faces, he grasped onto his father's armourweave cape in uncertainty, which, on a star destroyer and accompanying Darth Vader, was constantly. Vader knew he had to phase the coping mechanism out before the crew began to doubt his cultivated Sith Lord image of intimidation, especially when he realised he had been slowing his thudding, foreboding stride in order to allow the child to keep apace. Strangely though, there was something about the simple gesture that soothed him, a physical attachment between father and son that was no longer shown through their features. Perhaps he would wait for another week before addressing the issue.

Luke – his _son_, Darth Vader could still barely believe it – had taken to space like a duck to water, though he had to explain what a duck was when asked. Curiosity and excitement were quickly taking over his wariness for the new situation, causing him to ask more questions and even gave the expressionless Sith Lord bright smiles more often. Vader hadn't heard him laugh, though.

He did not know why that filled him with a sense of disquiet.

When his father paused to address crew members, Luke would remain fixated on pressing his nose against a viewing window to gape at the stars. During the first few days, Vader once accidentally forgot the child while he debriefed a captain, walking almost 15 minutes before he realised his growing uneasiness was caused by the lack of soft footfalls behind him. He'd retraced his route and left the captain far behind in his haste, only to find Luke sitting cross-legged in front of a window, hands pressed to the transparisteel and wrapped in a thermal blanket.

While unused to the coldness of space even on the heated _Exactor_, Luke remained stubbornly attached to his light farmer tunic and only permitted a thermal blanket to be wrapped around his shoulders when Vader insisted it was either that or stay within their quarters. Usually void of needless material possessions, his quarters had been invaded after he'd unwisely remarked to Commander Bow on his lack of appropriate supplies for a 4-year-old. Somehow, as soon as Vader returned to the _Exactor_ mere hours after discovering his son, he found his quarters swamped with various child-friendly furniture and toys. The clutter should have disturbed him, but it was oddly comforting when he found himself stepping on a stray bantha plushie every time he stepped into his rooms.

He didn't know how the stormtroopers managed to arrange all the items in his quarters without his permission – or how they even had them in the first place. They were in _space_, with barely enough time to stop at a Tatooine's orbit let alone to go on a shopping trip whilst on duty.

Vader accredited it to his deadly determination to instil efficiency in all his men.

Overall, with Luke slowly becoming more comfortable around the daunting figure of his father and the vastness of the star destroyer, Darth Vader was tentatively optimistic about his new role in fatherhood.

That was why, in order to "rediscipline" a few officers responsible for a delay in the construction of the DS-1 Orbital Battle Station, Darth Vader left his son in the care of three of his trusted 501st Legion for a day. It was the first instance he'd allowed Luke to leave his sight for an extended period of time, but after thoroughly informing the troopers on the consequences should he be harmed, kidnapped, ransomed, traumatised, disintegrated, taught to use a blaster rifle, allowed to play with a weapon of any kind, left alone for more than 5 minutes, eaten by some terrible creature, poisoned, electrocuted, cloned or otherwise, Darth Vader was confident in his elite Legion's abilities.

When he came back from a round of impromptu executions/threats and was just about to enter his quarters, his three troopers filed out with respectful salutes.

"Lord Vader!" they greeted with military synchronisation. When asked, they replied that Luke had behaved throughout the day, mostly drawing and playing with a model of a T-16 skyhopper. Pleased, Vader dismissed them and was perplexed when he saw them march away with unusual swiftness.

He suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

When he entered his quarters, he discovered that the troopers had introduced Luke to chocolate before his bedtime.

* * *

Darth Vader hadn't even known four-year-olds could scream so loudly. The implants in his damaged ears actually rang in protest.

"I am your father," he attempted, trying to approach with one hand extended in a peace offering, "you must –"

"NOOOOOO!" Luke howled, darting away.

Vader thought he was being overly dramatic.

This had never happened before. Usually the boy, tired from following Vader around the expanse of the star destroyer, went to sleep in his room without protest, or even fell asleep halfway from the refresher to his bed. Never had Luke raised his voice against the Sith Lord in such a manner, nor had anyone else either. Vader concluded that the stormtroopers were to blame – them and their accursed penchant for hiding sweets in their uniform even _before_ Luke had been discovered.

Yes, Darth Vader was aware of their on-duty snacking. It seemed time to inform them of his knowledge too.

Exasperated, Vader finally snatched up his son using the Force and deposited him over his shoulder like a lightweight sack of flour. He endured the kicks to his chest and the pounding of fists on his back easily due to Luke's kitten-like strength, carrying him towards Luke's bedroom.

"It is pointless to resist, my son," he sighed, baritone voice overriding Luke's yells. He felt more resigned than irritated. "It's bedtime."

"I DON'T WANNA SLEEP!" Luke cried.

Darth Vader forced his mind to recall the past, pushing down impatience. What had his mother done when he'd been restless? The memories were there, foggy with time and reluctance. _Padmé would know what to do._ The thought came unbidden, unwelcome, and he fiercely locked it away along with the bitter emotions that accompanied it. Too late, though, and misery pressed at his mental shields.

"Do you want a glass of blue milk?" Vader tried, more to distract himself than anything.

"NO." Despite the stubborn denial, Luke's feet hesitated briefly in kicking at his chest.

"Do you want your skyhopper?" The T-16 model was occasionally taken by Luke to his bed. "Or that stuffed bantha?"

Luke gave a sullen shake of the head. "No. And his name is Spud!"

Vader growled almost inaudibly. One last, desperate try: "What about a story?"

The struggles immediately ceased.

"A story?" Luke repeated in disbelief, twisting his body in an attempt to stare at Vader's mask.

He could only nod, but internally cursed when Luke agreed enthusiastically, rubbing at his eyes and tantrum forgotten. _Stories_…he could barely remember any of his mother's tales anymore. To buy himself time, he set Luke on the ground and bid him to tuck himself into bed. A quick glance around Luke's room revealed a wooden TIE-fighter shaped shelf filled with thin datapads; he let out a mental breath in relief and grabbed one at random.

A vivid red and black, horned face glared at him. His hand twitched.

_"The Fall of Darth Maul"_? Who even made these?

Luke smiled at him from where he was settled in his bed. A hanging mobile made from a completed model of the DS-1 Orbital Battle Station (where had the clones managed to acquire _that_? Wasn't it highly classified?) turned slowly to his right, orbited by little TIE-fighters and star destroyers. Luke scuttled over to turn the bedside lamp on, and then shuffled sideways. When Darth Vader merely stared at him, he patted the vacated side of the bed with an expectant stare.

Darth Vader gathered what was left of his youth's hard-headedness and cautiously sat down beside his son. He had no idea what he was doing, but would stubbornly push on.

* * *

"…and then Darth Maul leapt up and destroyed Qui-Gon…"

Darth Vader thought he was doing rather well, all things considered. Though simplistic and only containing stylised images, the datapad was surprisingly engaging for the Sith Lord. He remembered the tattooed Sith vaguely in his childhood, a faint, shadowy figure that had been one of his predecessors in Palpatine's tutelage, which made reading it bearable and much more interesting.

"…the two halves of his body fell into the abyss…"

When he finished the chapter, he turned to silent boy to gauge his performance. Luke was clutching the bed sheets tightly to his chest. Taking note of his rigid shoulders, Darth Vader questioned whether the story had been age-appropriate. He checked the author's note.

_Rated 12yrs +_

…

Darth Vader realised he may have just traumatised his son for life.

"He was cut in _half_?" Luke whispered, eyes wide and disturbed. He took a breath; expecting tears, Darth Vader cringed inwardly. "AWESOME!"

* * *

When a 4-year-old's imagination is sparked and combined with the remaining sugar running through his veins, a very monstrous thing indeed was created. Darth Vader had been busy disposing the datapad after crushing it with the Force to notice that Luke slipped out of his bedroom and into the main chamber. Luke decided to re-enact the death of Maul on their sofas, which the stormtroopers had picked in garish colours that made Vader wince, employing the use of pillows as barriers. He "fell" to his death off the edge of the couch with a dramatic stagger, almost causing Vader's respirator to short-circuit the first time and use the Force to catch him.

"Dad!" Luke giggled, squirming from where he hovered above the ground. "That's not how the story goes!"

Somewhat taken aback by the first sound of laughter he'd heard from his son, Darth Vader remained rooted to the spot, hand still outstretched. When Luke laughed and attempted to touch the ground, he snapped out of his daze and gently settled him onto the seat. The child bounced up, animated in his movements as he began to jump on the cushions.

Still wary of his first almost-failure, the Sith Lord could only stand back and hope that the boy tired himself out soon. When he showed no signs of stopping his bounces after several minutes, Darth Vader decided to strategically retreat to the unoccupied, largest couch. It was an off-white with green lines criss-crossing its surface, which Vader eyed with distaste, missing his former greel wood furnishings that had mysteriously disappeared. It was large enough to support his entire frame and he sunk into it with a weary groan, resting his head on a side arm.

Even his daily duties as the Emperor's apprentice didn't drain him this much. Slowing down his respirator, he slipped into a half-meditative state. If he could just lay there for a moment…

"Dad? Dad, are you awake?"

Darth Vader blinked out of his doze. He son's face took up most of his vision. It was so close that Luke's forehead almost bumped into his faceplate as the boy tried to look beyond his mask for an indication of movement.

"Yes?" Vader inquired, and then tensed in alarm. He tried to think of when and how his son had half-clambered onto his chest without alerting him. Usually, he was hyper-aware of his glaring vulnerability provided by the panel that regulated his breathing and pulse. He was thankful Luke hadn't stepped on the control panel, or even pressed on a single button; death by four-year-old was not appealing in the least.

When had he become so accustomed to the boy that he allowed him so near without the Force yelling at him to protect his point of weakness?

"I'm sleepy," Luke told him, pulling him out of his musings with a slight tug on his cloak. Vader noted his drooping eyelids and the way his head kept lolling forward in tiny increments. A short yawn exposed his small, white teeth. Before Vader could move, he added, "Can I sleep here with you?"

Vader could practically imagine kicking feet and twitching arms colliding with his chest panel and tried to refuse, "It would not be wise to…"

He trailed off when Luke's eyes widened, brows furrowing and entire face seemingly wilting in dismay. The Force trembled empathetically around him, reacting to his emotions even at a young age. Vader hadn't even finished the sentence but already felt he'd stomped on a puppy with his unforgiving combat boots.

"…very well," he acceded. The Sith Lord would give in, but only just this once. He was determined to maintain his authority in the future.

Luke's tired face lit up as he slid over to the gap between Vader's mechanical arm and body. Using his father's upper arm as a pillow, he curled inwards slightly to face the Sith Lord's control panel, drowsily blinking as if mesmerised by the flashing lights. Darth Vader sought the boy's mind with the Force to examine the still-growing link between them. His mental touch was exceedingly gentle in order to avoid damaging the developing mind, a far cry from when he simply ripped information from traitors or spies. Cautiously, he imbued the feelings of _careful _and _do not touch_ regarding the panel's buttons, so that Luke would know through his innate sensing of the Force to avoid them, even when asleep.

Vader almost started when he received the sluggish mumble of, _'Kay dad…_

Staring down at his now sleeping son, Vader shook his head in wonder. With his head on his father's shoulder and his legs slightly drawn up, the boy's feet did not even reach Vader's fingers, and yet he could already use telepathy. A basic Force skill made easier by their relation, but impressive with his age and state of almost unconsciousness. The boy's potential was astounding. Palpatine had already remarked that any progeny of Vader's would surely inherit substantial skill with the Force, supported by the midi-chlorian count that was discreetly collected during a medical exam. With the proper training and guidance, Luke would become a very formidable ally indeed.

However, Darth Vader found himself almost reluctant when considering training. Though he had not yet conversed with his master since informing him of Luke's survival (and hadn't that been a delightful conversation, with Vader desperately holding in his rage and the desire to throw his lightsaber at the withered, blue face), he knew Palpatine would insist in contributing once they began. According to the Emperor, the Sith learnt through hatred and, above all, _pain_. And, staring at Luke's relaxed face leaning trustingly against his side, Vader felt a faint stirring behind his machine-regulated heart.

He shoved it aside. Quieting his mind of troubling thoughts, he stared at the ceiling meditatively. There was no point in pursuing this thought path until he was fully rested and in possession of a clear mind. His respirator's breathing began to slow automatically in response.

After a moment, he realised something.

_My arm is totally asleep_, he thought in disbelief. Luke had managed to slump in a position that cut off circulation to what remained of Vader's left arm. He hadn't even known the stump could still be capable of pins and needles! Glaring at the ceiling, Vader cursed Obi-wan, wherever the man was hiding, vehemently and for no real reason. With his disgruntled shifting, he caused Luke to let out a snuffle of sleepy protest. Darth Vader stilled before the boy could awaken.

The small body beside him shivered as if cold, or perhaps attuned to his father's mood. Luke's fingers twitched from their position on his chest as a frown marred his face. Calming, Vader used the Force to carefully extract part of his cloak from underneath them. When it was free, he loosely wrapped it around Luke and his trapped arm. The boy mumbled incoherently as he automatically grasped at the familiar feel of the armorweave material, pulling it up to his chin.

Vader's arm would hate him in the morning, he knew. But for now, he was content in staring down at his son's smoothened expression.

* * *

**AN**: Thar we go. Any mistakes, please let me know. Thank you for reading!

Did you know that according to the wiki, Darth Vader has a thin backpack hidden behind his cloak? I almost _died_ when I read that. A backpack.

Next Time: A tour of the _Exactor_

Some Time: Anger, Obi-wan Kenobi makes an appearance, sports, The Death Star, Han Solo: Bane of Darth Vader's Existence


	7. Halloween Part I

**Darth Vader and Son**

Disclaimer: Rights go to their proper creators.

This is not really a chapter 7, just something to tide you guys over for brief inactivity. I'm going away for work and will not have access to the internet nor time to fiddle with my notes. The next chapter should be available Thursday-ish, or, for the Pacific Standard Time viewers, Wednesday-ish.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Halloween**

Darth Vader's son was a stormtrooper.

The members of the 501st Legion on the _Exactor _were proud. While the most were on duty – no holiday for Vader's Fist – several off-duty members crowded around their little miniature, their armour decorated with appropriately spooky-themed markings. Sergeant Russ was completely covered in gold, sparkling glitter, the result of him losing a sabacc bet three days prior.

"Now, heads up, shoulders straight, little guy," Russ instructed teasingly, tilting the boy's somewhat oversized helmet as it leaned precariously to the side. His hand left a glittering imprint. "You've got a grand reputation to live up to."

"Yessir!" Luke barked, saluting and almost knocking the helmet off his head.

Zapper, decorated with ghostly green splashes, straightened it again, clapped him soundly on the back. He added, "Pride of the Empire – remember that! We have a noble and ancient tradition to live up to."

Luke nodded, helmet wobbling.

"Not so ancient," amended Fox, the captain usually stationed on Coruscant and eldest of the group. His armour had a few splashes of dark red on it.

"You would know, eh, captain?" slyly interjected Snub, a stormtrooper from Russ' squad.

"Insubordination, rookie."

The _Exactor _had returned to the Core Worlds to gather intelligence. The clone trooper captain had left Coruscant to deliver a status report on his company, but stayed to examine the source of the topic that was rife in the conversations of the 501st Legion. No matter where they were stationed, the Legion members knew of their leader's son through extensive and highly covert communications – also known as the rumour mill. The exclusive information was heavily guarded by the trooper's unwavering loyalty to their commander, so much so that not even units serving in the same areas had an inkling of what the 501st discussed during breaks.

Sergeant Russ patted Luke on the shoulder, leaving another glittering mark. "We ought to move out before nightfall. Candy awaits, kid!"

"Alright!" Luke whooped, punching the air above him in excitement. Captain Fox discreetly nudged the helmet back on.

"Too bad we didn't have any dark blue," Tanker, another of Russ' squad, mourned. "He could've looked just like us."

"We already know he's part of the 501st," Zapper dismissed easily, causing Luke to beam beneath his helmet. "Remember our battle cry?"

"Yessir!"

"_An army of one man, but the right man for the job!_" they all declared, Luke the most solemn.

As they were filing out, Jurir, a trooper from Zapper's squad decorated as a skeleton, interrupted, "Sir…aren't you forgetting something?"

"He's right! Here you go, cadet," Russ placed an orange bag into Luke's eager hands. It had bat decoration on the front. "A bag to collect all those sweets."

"A fine job, men," Fox congratulated, inclining his head at his subordinates. "He looks just like a cadet."

"Thank you, sir!" the troopers replied, and some high-fives were exchanged.

"But tell me," continued the captain, shaking his head in admiration, "how in the Nine Corellian Hells did you convince Lord Vader to let him down to Alderaan?"

Silence.

"…You did consult the boy's father, correct?"

* * *

"No."

Darth Vader did not even glance up at them from where he was absorbed in a datapad showing schematics of what seemed to be a small moon-like structure. As Fox had fled back to his company, Zapper, the most senior of the group not covered in gold, stood bemusedly in front of their commander. The rest of the group stood at attention, but far behind the sergeant. Russ had stayed outside, not wanting to endure Darth Vader's stare when covered in glitter.

"My Lord, we have not requested anything yet," Zapper said with candid confusion. They had just marched in and greeted the man only to be met with immediate rejection.

"I am well aware of the date, sergeant," Darth Vader replied, moving a box filled with text to the side and tapping away at the datapad. "Coruscant is too dangerous for Luke."

"We have planned to take him to Alderaan instead, Lord Vader. We would accompany him at all times."

"That will make him even more conspicuous, no matter the planet's supposed peace and what ridiculous costume he has."

"Hey!" cried Luke from his stiffly standing position. A trooper nudged him. "I mean, "hey, sir'!"

Darth Vader finally looked up from his work. His son saluted at him from where he stood with military attentiveness, more than half the size of his companions. Zapper had the distinct feeling the Sith Lord was blinking several times behind his mask.

"…Luke," he finally spoke with seemingly great reluctance, "you are a stormtrooper."

"Yessir!"

Mechanical sigh. "Of course."

Zapper did not know if he should feel offended or not. He decided the latter, for Darth Vader tilted his head to look at the fully grown troopers, almost assessing. Keeping his posture official, Zapper waited in respectful silence as Darth Vader turned back to his son. They seemed to engage in those silent conversations they tended to have, which, according those on-board the _Exactor_, should not be interrupted under pain of death. It was easier to tell if they were speaking when Luke did not have the helmet on, for he made emotive faces as if talking out loud.

"You know the consequences should anything untoward occur," the Sith Lord finally stated more than asked, voice low with a deadly undertone that was blissfully lost on the smallest in the room.

There was a quick, unanimous agreement from the troopers. No one could forget the sabacc incident.

"Then I leave you in charge of this mission, sergeant," Vader dismissed, returning to his work.

Sergeant Zapper saluted with his men, but while the others internally cheered, he was apprehensive. One did not remain in Darth Vader's proximity for this long and not develop a certain expectation for levels of death threats. That had been surprisingly easy – too easy.

Later, his suspicions were vindicated.

* * *

Taking Vader's warning to heart, no matter how mild, the stormtroopers set up various strategic positions to oversee Luke's route through the deliberately less populated parts of Alderaan and shove aside suspicious individuals. The little stormtrooper was knocking on doors, pumpkin coloured bag swinging on one arm and a skip in his step. Due to his training by the stormtroopers, he had quickly risen to become leader of a group of children, including those dressed as a Mon Calamari, a white Twi'lek, an Ewok, and some sort of species with fangs. The troopers from the bushes with pride, for the boy's bag was steadily being filled and there had been no hiccups in the plan.

That was, until some petty criminals decided to take advantage of open doors and rob a house.

The stormtroopers had no choice but to intervene, for Luke's idyllically unaware group was heading towards that neighbourhood. They all cursed their bad luck – wasn't Alderaan supposed to be filled with peace-loving non-combatants? It took a longer time, for their blasters could not be used least they alarm the children, but the small gang was easily overrun by the imperial-trained stormtroopers. Russ was congratulating them all when one of what he had assumed to be bodies leapt up, knocking the sergeant heavily over the head.

The troopers cried out, but before Zapper could even reach for his blaster, the criminal let out a desperate gurgling sound. A second later, a slightly twitching body dropped by the prone Russ' elbow.

"You missed one, sergeant," berated Darth Vader, looming out of the shadows like a great demon.

"My apologies, Lord Vader," Zapper could only reply in shock. How did the tower of a man sneak around like that? With his breathing and flaring cloak, nonetheless! The darkness seemed to envelope him, hiding his presence better than any stealth gear.

"I have been eliminating the criminal organisation that made their headquarters nearby," Darth Vader growled, making them all freeze at his dark tone. "Your choice of location left much to be desired, sergeant Zapper."

Before Zapper could even formulate an appropriate apology, Russ groaned from the floor. "Take him to the medical bay," he ordered, grateful for a distraction to calm his racing heart.

By the time Russ was carried away, Darth Vader had taken up position by their hiding spot in the bushes, his body shielded by a tree as he watched the little figure of his son knock on another door. Zapper warily eyed the Sith Lord, grateful that the man was fixated on the boy rather than his failure. While their commander rarely executed those of his Legion in comparison to imperial officers, it was never a guarantee when Luke was involved.

"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" the strangely familiar auburn haired woman chuckled as she answered the door Luke had rapped on. The man beside her smiled and began handing the children sweets from a bowl.

"Did she just insult my son?!" Darth Vader hissed indignantly into the bushes, gloved hand going to his lightsaber.

There were frantic head-shaking movements and a whispered, "No sir!"

"Have you performed a background check? Those sweets could contain poison."

"No sir…?"

The sergeant realised their job had gotten much more difficult.

* * *

**AN**: Thanks for reading! I'll be back soon.


	8. Death Star?

**Darth Vader and Son****  
**

Disclaimer: Rights go to the true creators of the franchise/book, and that does not include me.

Forty-five reviews. You are awesome. Yes, you, the one reading this right now. It matters not if you review (but I wouldn't object to that!), what matters is that you clicked in the first place. I have only just realised this fic has been placed in the communities "As Father and Son" and "Luke and Vader" – more than a week ago. A belated thank you to everyone.

While I was writing the last chapter, I was hit over the head by a plot bunny that I pushed to the side due to lack of time. It was vicious. It wouldn't go away. You may have noticed Halloween has a "Part 1" attached to it. You know what that means.

But for now, continuing the non-linear aspect of the fic, the next chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Death Star?**

Though his son had spent months on-board, Vader had not permitted Luke to go gallivanting about, even with stormtrooper accompaniment. Palpatine's spies were always hovering, as well as all manner of machinery and electrics Luke could squirrel away to tinker with. It was a habit that Vader admitted to have encouraged after bringing a captivated Luke into his private workshop. To his pride, the boy was a quick, rapt learner, though a bit too fascinated with his lightsaber and sonic welder for Darth Vader's comfort. He drew the line at attempting to take apart Threepio to add a waffle maker or fixing a rocket propulsion system to Artoo, though. The _Exactor_'s crew soon found minor bits and pieces missing after Darth Vader's rounds with his son, but no one dared say anything.

While accompanying Vader or being minded by some stormtroopers in the unlocked sections of his quarters, Luke had no opportunity to explore the multitude of levels, sections and nooks that made up the star destroyer. It was a safety issue that Vader sought to amend as soon as he was able, for what if his son was somehow forced from his side? He had already taken the liberty of examining blueprints of the _Exactor_, plotting the most efficient paths from notable landmarks, as well as routes specifically designed for evasion and hiding.

With that in mind, when one of Darth Vader's rare days off popped into his schedule, he decided to take Luke on a tour of the _Exactor_. The ship's length was formidable to a child, so they had to start early in the _Exactor_'sday cycle to allow for rest stops. First on the agenda was breakfast.

For some inane reason, Luke saw it fit to insist that his father received a serve of food whenever they dined. Despite his attempts to explain it was difficult to receive sustenance due to his suit and the fact that Darth Vader never ate in front of the child, Luke either refused to eat as well or risked his life carrying a tray laden with food to his father. The Sith Lord had quickly learnt it was just better to accept the inevitable, graciously accepting whatever Luke placed in front of him. Luke didn't seem to mind that he never touched the utensils, let alone the food. Afterwards, Vader would discreetly send it back to the kitchens.

On that particular day, the kitchens were closed due to an assassination attempt. The 501st Legion had quickly dealt with the culprits in a satisfyingly brutal manner, but the entire section had to be decontaminated for flesh-eating, semi-sentient bacteria. The kitchen droids were understandably upset.

The duty of his son's breakfast, therefore, fell on Darth Vader's shoulders.

He thought he did pretty well, actually. He'd spent the night researching, and managed to make slices of nuna bacon with eggs and toast without disintegrating anything. The bacon had alarmed him so much when it started spitting that he may or may not have thrown the pan into a wall, which may or may not have received a mysterious dent afterwards, but an admirable effort all the same. Artoo and Threepio agreed with him, at the very least, though the latter had remarked that being "fit for human consumption" was its main selling factor. Despite that, it was an achievement that he felt deserved recognition.

Luke prodded his plate with his fork, staring at the eggs with a small frown on his furrowed face.

Suddenly paranoid of food poisoning, Darth Vader asked, "Don't you like the eggs I made?"

"Eggs are babies," Luke mumbled sombrely, lips barely moving.

Darth Vader mentally promised that he would find the boy's last babysitters and strangle them. Instead, he used the Force to pour some cereal (_C-3PO's: Delicious Crunchy Golden Pillows with 27 Different Grains!_) into a bowl while Luke watched in fascination.

* * *

They'd navigated the maintenance bay without problem, despite Vader humouring Luke in a few minutes pause for a game of hide-and-seek. He showed the boy various vents and small passages hidden in the walls, a perfect fit for a hiding 4-year-old, as well as the emergency pods. On their way to the command bridge tower, they gave the floor of the sealed kitchens and mess hall a wide berth, with Luke stopping to say hello to each early patrolling stormtrooper that passed. The 501st Legion, after a quick glance at Vader's inscrutable mask, would return the greeting or helpfully provide their nicknames when Luke could not recall them. Vader was actually surprised at how many designations his son, the boy who often forgot to pick up his toys, remembered.

"Son," Vader began after the seventh time Luke's face scrunched in a concentrated effort to remember, "there are almost ten thousand members in the 501st. While I am certain the men appreciate your efforts, you cannot remember them all." Seeing Luke's look of dejection, he added, "I will teach you a Force technique I use. You will receive their name from their mind rather than straining yours."

Much happier, Luke continued by his side as they wandered around the recreational areas, a unique feature of star destroyers. The halls were relatively empty at the young hour, with only a few unwinding night-shift officers lounging desolately in the bar. Darth Vader did not bother to interact with them, for it was far too early to tolerate their almost unique brand of incompetence, _especially_ if inebriated. He resisted the urge to have them martialled, even if some made a valiant effort at standing in respect. Luke, having long picked up his opinion, similarly ignored them in favour of rushing to a transparisteel viewing platform.

"Dad!" he gasped, waving him over. "Look at that big ship! Is that a star destroyer like ours?"

Darth Vader approached with a frown, recognising the dagger-like shape in the distance, a vague blot in the darkness of space. How had Luke noticed that? With a quick harnessing of the Force, he recognised it as Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin's flagship. He had not been made aware of any visits, nor was his comlink alerting him to the ship's presence.

"That is the _Executrix_," Vader explained absently when Luke tugged at his cloak. "Grand Moff Tarkin's _Imperator_-class star destroyer. It is the earlier model of ours."

Awestruck, Luke pressed his hands against the glass as if to get closer, while Darth Vader ran over possibilities in his mind. There must be something wrong if Tarkin left his precious Death Star construction site. After the earlier delays, any complications were gravely unwelcome – particularly if Palpatine was still irate over the unsuccessful securing of trade routes. They were already behind schedule far enough. The superlaser had not even come out of pre-production planning without being theorised to implode and most likely destroy the station itself.

"Are we going to visit?" Luke asked, turning back to him as the star destroyer loomed into full view.

"No," Vader replied, impatiently thumbing his comlink to the command bridge tower's signal. "They will come aboard."

"But it's another star destroyer! Can't we explore?"

"When I was your age," Darth Vader emphasised with his hand, "we didn't even have star destroyers…" While Luke pouted, the comlink crackled to life. Before any greetings could be exchanged, Vader demanded with a snarl, "Admiral, what is the situation?"

"Lord Vader! W–_zzt_," static, "tower_zzzzzzt _– down again –"

With an irritated growl, Vader shut the comlink off. Perhaps he needed to conduct another "inspection". It was the second time in a week the communications tower was having difficulties. This did not bode well for the tower's staff.

Somewhere, one of the coms personnel shivered violently in his sleep.

* * *

Yet again, spies had compromised the location of the orbital battle station. Vader felt a headache throb at the corners of his mind and the dark side prickle at his fingers. The fortified meeting room consisted of only a handful of officers and Tarkin, as well as the Sith Lord lurking ominously in the corner. Despite his discreet position, the armour-clad man's presence seemed to dominate the room, chilling and all too real for even sceptics of the Force to deny. As Luke was safely watched in a different room by clone troopers called Eight-Five and Marker, the officers had lost the one reassurance they'd come to associate with the boy's presence. They studiously tried to look as if they were busy paying attention to Tarkin while shooting the Sith Lord fearful looks out of the corner of their eyes. One of them was a pasty white colour and looked ready to faint. Newly promoted, then. Vader predicted he would last a month before he became tired of him, 2 if he felt charitable.

"…as you can see, Lord Vader," Grand Moff Tarkin, one of the few competent, efficient officers he knew, explained calmly as he pointed at several charts, "we will be forced to relocate to one of several Outer Rim worlds. I suggest remaining in the sector–"

Someone interjected, "That's ridiculous! That sector has been comp–!"

The Sith Lord promptly crushed their windpipe. With not even enough time to claw at his throat, the man – judging from his stripes, barely important enough to make the meeting let alone interrupt a Grand Moff – gave a wheezing gurgle and collapsed, twitching, onto the table. A nudge from the Force, and he slid down his chair to remain still on the floor. The white-faced officer, conveniently sitting beside the man, whimpered.

Darth Vader amended his estimate to 2 weeks.

"Proceed," he intoned flatly into the silence.

Tarkin sighed, sounding rather put-upon, gesturing back to the map of the aforementioned region and continued as if uninterrupted, "The Patriim system's sun provides appropriate cover to which we can move the station from Seswanna without inordinate difficulties." A hologram of the current Death Star, little more than a pathetic, massive shell. "Its sole orbiting planet Hockaleg is sparsely inhabited by migrating groups and may be used for supplies caching."

Examining the star chart, Vader assessed the location critically. "Your plan has merit. The Emperor is aware of such delays?"

"His Majesty was not pleased," an almost imperceptible twitch, "and requests that you personally uncover those responsible."

That was a pleasantly worded execution order if any. "What of the spies?"

"We have captured one; however our interrogations have proven unsuccessful. I took the liberty of transferring him to your detention cells, my lord."

Vader's voice was full of dark promise. "Excellent."

* * *

Later, Darth Vader strode towards the bridge with Grand Moff Tarkin keeping up relatively well by his side. They were taking advantage of the emptied walkways to discuss the prisoner, a rather young lad yet already an expert in computer hacking. Apparently he had an aversion to spiders, which Vader would use against his mind most effectively, and did not respond to interrogation droids. They were just about to move on to Seswanna politics when a blur of white, blue and blond whistled past in front of them from an intersecting corridor.

Tarkin paused in mid-stride, head turned towards the disturbance.

"Lord Vader?" he questioned with admirable composure.

Something of a sigh came from the Sith Lord as he said, "Continue ahead, Governor. I will join you momentarily."

Without looking at Tarkin's reaction, Darth Vader stalked off in pursuit of his son's Force-signature. It took a few minutes, but eventually he intercepted the boy and droid at an intersection, simply plucking the pair from the ground with the Force. He ignored their protests as they hovered above the ground, crossing his arms sternly at them both.

"What have I told you about corridors?" he demanded, moving his gaze from one to the other irately.

"It is an area for walking," Luke sighed, kicking his feet sullenly.

"_Not an airstrip_," finished Artoo with a sulky _whirrrr_.

"That is correct. Where are those troopers I assigned you, Luke? And Artoo, where is Threepio?"

The two guiltily (Vader thought that was the case with the droid, at least) looked at each other.

"Crumbles," Luke answered nervously, at the same time Artoo beeped, "_Monkey devil_."

Vader sometimes wondered if he had two children instead of one.

"Artoo," he ordered, "you are to liberate Threepio and the stormtroopers from the creature. Use electricity if you must." Setting the little droid on the ground so he could wheel away, Vader overrode Luke's weak protest. "Luke, you are to stay at my side for the remainder of the day."

Granted, it wasn't so much a punishment, more of a way for Vader to keep an eye on his son while suspicious officers from the _Executrix_ were walking around. Despite whining a little, Luke was not truly bothered to spend more time with his father, and followed behind him without further complaint as he continued his route to the bridge. At first, the boy held on tightly to his gloved mechanical hand, but let go when he detected approaching stormtroopers. Vader tried not to show how amused he was, but realised he failed when Luke grumbled at him through the Force.

_Remember, do not reveal your last name_, Vader repeated his previous advice to the child. Tarkin had known Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars; it was not much of a leap in logic to make if Luke declared himself Darth Vader's son.

_'Kay_, Luke agreed and then aloud said, "What were you an' the moth man talking about?"

Vader's mouth twitched but he replied evenly, "_Grand Moff_ Tarkin, Luke, a man worthy of respect and caution. We were planning the future of the Empire." The words had the desired effect; Luke huffed in disinterest and fiddled with his tunic.

"The Death Star thing?" he asked after a moment. At Vader's affirmation, Luke nodded, and then waved at a small droid approaching them. The MSE droid was by far the tiniest droid he had ever seen, grey, mouse-like body skittering underfoot about the hallways with mysterious purpose. "Hello little droid that goes around the hallways! Dad –"

"No. You may only have one to _fix_ when it is broken."

"Aw…" Only briefly disappointed, Luke asked innocently, "Dad, why is it called a "Death Star"?"

"Er…" Vader had long decided to not coddle the boy, but that did not mean he had to explain in words he could comprehend. With deathly seriousness, he said, "It is an immense technological marvel with an unparalleled munitions system capable of annihilating entire worlds and ensuring the Empire as the dominating force in the galaxy."

Luke stared at him blankly. When his father did not say anything further, he nodded with a hesitant, drawn-out, "Okaaaay…" His hand rubbed at his neck. "Can we get something to eat after?"

Vader mentally congratulated himself.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading! Did you catch the special reference? This chapter was based off three pages of the book.

Next Time: Good and Evil

Some Time: Scruffy Nerf Herders and Princesses, a visit to the park, another visit to Tatooine, Halloween from Luke's perspective, Force training. Slowly, but we're getting there!


	9. Apology Accepted, Lieutenant Commander

**Darth Vader and Son**

To everyone who read, reviewed, favourite-d, alerted, just plain clicked accidentally, and those I cannot pm because they have turned it off, thank you!

Due to Darth Vader-typical violence, I have decided to bump this fic up to the **T rating; **my apologies if it causes any inconveniences to anyone. Also, have fixed the "ficlet" description into "one-shot", for first I did plan for short chapters - and then the Star Wars universe happened. Please read the **AN at the end** regarding a change in update schedule, not that there was any in the first place...

* * *

**Chapter 9: Apology Accepted, Lieutenant Commander**

In the tremulous barrier between sleep and meditation, Darth Vader remembered.

_Do what must be done, Lord Vader._

Blaster fire. Brown robes crumpling at his feet. The double _thud-thump_ of heads and bodies separated cleanly from each other.

An angel, crying.

"Liar! You're with him! You brought him here to kill me!"

_Do not hesitate._

The dark side whispering tantalisingly in his mind, filling it with grand promises and paranoia.

The clash of lightsabers.

"You were my brother, Anakin!"

_Show no mercy._

A blond-haired child, relieved and trusting. "Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! What are we going to do?"

_Only then will you be strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé._

The _snap-hiss _of his lightsaber, reflected in the widening of horrified blue eyes –

"Dad?"

Darth Vader shuddered back into full consciousness, respirator harshly quickened in response to his pounding heart. His fingers twitched in remembrance of efficient, brutal strikes, and his ears echoed with the hum of lightsaber cleaving through flesh. Blinking away the images that seemed imprinted into his mind, burnt deep with the heat of Mustafar, Vader turned his gaze to regard the boy staring worriedly at him over the head of a bantha plushie. For a moment, a long-dead youngling's face flashed over his vision; he threw it aside with a mental snarl.

"Are you okay, dad?" Luke questioned with concern, one arm squishing the stuffed animal to his chest and the other slowly coming up to settle feather-like fingertips on Vader's elbow.

The calming touch only proved to disturb Vader more; he jerked his arm away and, ignoring the fission of hurt that surged through the Force, hauled himself off the couch. He almost stumbled from the roiling emotions the memory beckoned forth, but forced it down with a surge of all-encompassing, hot rage. The dark side crackled under his scarred skin, heightening when he saw Luke flinch back in response to his malevolent aura. He turned away, unable to look at the crumpled expression on his son's face and his bright, untainted Force signature.

Having knowing the man for only a month, Luke had never seen him in such a state. It was almost frightening, craning his neck up at the looming wall that was the man's amour-clad back. Nonetheless, he reached up to tug lightly at his father's cloak.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Luke babbled in a rush, shuffling closer and ignoring the sick feeling that grew inside his chest with the increased proximity to the Sith Lord. "Cause Aunt Beru used to gimme some blue milk an' I always went back to sleep and I can get you some too dad if –"

"Unnecessary," Darth Vader interrupted, voice cold and mechanical. Luke's hand drooped back to his side. "I will be on a mission this week. Stormtroopers will watch you."

The Sith Lord strode out of his personal chambers without a backwards glance.

Vader attributed the rise in once dormant nightmares to Emperor Palpatine's accursed order to eliminate a threat on Mustafar. After leaving Luke on the _Exactor_ (during which Vader attempted to ignore the plaintive feelings leaking into his side of their budding Force bond), he assembled his strike force in another Imperator-class star destroyer called the _Chimaera_. A Geonosian engineer by the name of Gizo Dellso had reactivated the combat droids remaining on the former Separatist stronghold in Mustafar, amassing an army that attracted the undesirable attention of the Empire. Accompanied by the 501st, Vader commanded an assault of both space and planet-side against the Geonosian's forces. Against the sheer number of droideka, _Vulture,_ and B1 and B2 battle droids, many clone troopers were killed over the course of the day before they successfully destroyed the base and executed their leader.

Several commendations were given to the 501st Legion's members and promotions were handed out, partially due to the gaps left in the chain of command from casualties. It took 8 days to straighten everything with the various imperial navy higher-ups, including a rather costly salvaging mission in the remains of the droids, but finally Vader and his recovering Legion arrived back on the _Exactor_. In a moment of weakness, Darth Vader had ordered some of his stormtroopers to retrieve an old Separatist Belbullab-24 starfighter, a request which puzzled them even as they hurried to obey. He personally supervised the shunting of the captured starfighter into the _Exactor_'s hanger bay and by the time the task was finished, it was late in the ship's night cycle.

After a moment's hesitation, Vader decided it was best not to head straight to his quarters. A check with the Force told him that Luke was fast asleep, though his slumbering mind was stirring subconsciously in response to his presence. Withdrawing as unobtrusively as possible, Darth Vader began an inspection of his ship for errors in the week of his campaign.

While the bloodlust of battle had lessened the knife-keen edge on his rage, Vader was still fuming over unearthed memories and the added deaths of several promising stormtroopers. Their loss was something the Sith Lord allowed himself to regret, if only briefly and to enhance his connection to the dark side. As a result, he was merciless to his officers as ever. Due to his reluctance to frighten Luke away, they had enjoyed an unusual lack of executions via Force-choking for the past month. Therefore, as soon as Vader stepped into the command bridge alone, a collective shudder of dread ran through the room.

Except, of course, the recently promoted and transferred Admiral Belarc. Arrogantly assured of his place – due to his occasionally, Vader admitted, useful contacts – the admiral began engaging the Sith Lord in _small talk _of all things. Good evening Lord Vader, how was the mission, did you destroy another city, etc. etc., causing Vader to twitch under his mask and cut him off with a telekinetic warning pinch to his throat. The damage of his leniency in the past month had to be repaired.

Stars forbid if his officers came to regard him as "approachable". Satisfied by the level of terror in the room, the Sith Lord released the admiral and held out his hand for the datapad in a gaping aide's hand. The young man continued to gawp at him, and just before Vader could choke him as well for his stupidity, a braver man stepped forward.

Second Lieutenant Cassio Tagge slivered into the space his superior once occupied, immediately offering a report on the missions that had been assigned in Vader's absence. Vader acknowledged him with a nod. Despite the Sith Lord blinding his overly-ambitious brother some years earlier Tagge was nothing but respectful, efficient and rather competent in not provoking him. It was almost regretful that the junior officer was to be transferred back to Tarkin's command from his temporary post on the _Exactor_; Vader would follow his career with interest.

Scrolling through the datapad, Vader suppressed a groan. He suddenly wondered if he could commission clones of Tagge to be made throughout his ship.

"Tell me, admiral," Vader began, causing the man to straighten, "why is it that a rebel spy has escaped in a smuggler's freighter when he was known and monitored by your men?"

Before the admiral could open his useless mouth, Lieutenant Commander Needa stepped forward, face set in a tense but resigned line. Vader recognised him from previous missions – somewhat able, but under scrutiny by the Emperor. He wasn't stationed on the _Exactor_, but commanded on a smaller _Carrack_-class light cruiser called the _Integrity_ that was assigned in the rebel's last known location.

"My apologies, Lord Vader. I take full responsibility," the man admitted, visibly gulping but nonetheless steady. He proceeded to describe an elaborate chase involving a stormtrooper (not of Vader's Legion, but of a contingent from a nearby world) shuttle that crashed into an asteroid, a lost TIE fighter, damage to Needa's ship, and finally the escaped freighter containing smugglers and the rebel spy.

Another time, Vader would have been grudgingly approving of the man's willingness to admit his failure upfront. However, incensed as he was, he raised his hand in a vice-like gesture that made the crew draw back reflexively.

"They are minor criminals!" Vader raged, bringing the Needa to his knees as he gasped for air. The dark side swelled under his hand. "Marginal outlaws! You are _inept_."

The grip on Needa's throat tightened; he wheezed fearfully from beside Vader's boots, "N-no, Lord Vader, please –"

"And ineptitude is of no use to me or the Empire."

Just as Vader was to crush the man's windpipe, a little voice caused all the men in the room to freeze.

"Dad?" Luke's voice was tainted with concern. "Is he okay? He's gone all purple."

Unseen, Darth Vader had to close his eyes for a fortifying moment. Too late; he could already feel the dark side retreat in the wake of Luke's bright Force signature, like a wild beast shieding away from a fire. Needa gasped in lungful after lungful of air, one hand gripping the floor to steady his shuddering body and the other massaging his freed neck.

"Luke, you should be sleeping," Vader almost sighed, turning to his son with a stern frown that he conveyed through the Force. The boy, holding his T-16 in one arm, blinked confusedly as he tried to acclimatise himself to the mental communication after a week without.

"Sergeant Russ says you were coming back today an' I wanted to see you," Luke answered, shuffling his feet shyly at the dozens of eyes on him, "'cause Tanker said you were in a big battle." _And you didn't say goodbye_, whispered his tiny thought through their mental connection, so muffled under a blanket of timidness that Vader didn't know if Luke was aware of it.

Instantly, the words summoned a barrage of guilt the likes of which Vader hadn't felt in almost four years. The feeling slithered, snake-like, into the cavities of his chest and squeezed around his lungs. He tried to push it away, but his sense of failure was compounded by the fact that his son barely managed to meet his gaze without hesitating. Resisting the urge to clear his throat, he turned back to the still kneeling man.

"Apology accepted, Lieutenant Commander," he bit out, and added warningly, "Ensure this is the last time."

"Y-yes, m'lord, th-thank –"

"Come, Luke," Vader overrode the man's rasp, cape sweeping around as he strode away.

After a moment to gulp at the staring officers, Luke gave them a quick wave and scrambled away to follow his father.

The remainders let out a collective breath. Eventually, someone remembered to help Needa to his feet.

* * *

Irritated by what he saw as a show of weakness in front of those he commanded, Darth Vader stormed into his personal quarters' workshop to assess the damage to his lightsaber. Before the workshop lights stuttered on, he used the Force to assemble his tools on his desk, on which still rested a blueprint of a starfighter from his previous works. He began to disassemble his dual-phase lightsaber to check the damage had not reached into its innermost components, the weapon heavy and familiar in his artificial hands. The Sith-oriented tool reminded him of his power, which had faltered in the face of Luke's broadcasted emotions, and helped ground him with monotonous, long-practiced actions.

"Dad, can I see that?" Luke's blond head popped up over the desk, having found a stool to drag over. His hands grabbed onto the edge of the table; without looking, Darth Vader nudged some red-handled pliers away from the small fingers using the Force.

Still somewhat wary of his son's turbulent feelings and their influence on him, Darth Vader replied with curtness, "No."

"Do you need my help?" the boy persisted, shuffling closer.

"No."

"What are you doing?"

"Luke, go play."

"Can I fix it?"

"You should sleep."

"I'm not sleepy anymore."

"Luke. Either go back to sleep or quieten." The tone brooked no argument.

The boy quietened, watching as new, intricate pieces floated into their proper places and were attached by deft, practised hands. As the blessed silence continued, Vader felt himself become more absorbed in his work.

"Why'd that officer-man fall down like that?"

Luke was becoming very adept at shattering his concentration, Vader observed.

Darth Vader had never felt any qualms before; he was a Sith Lord and could not afford mercy. He tolerated no failure or incompetence, particularly in those under his command, and never had to explain his actions. And yet, Luke stared at him with wide, unwavering eyes. He decided not to coddle the boy.

"I used the Force to make him…" he simplified, "hold his breath."

Did children his age understand death? Luke had offhandedly mentioned his grandmother's grave on Tatooine – which had been a conversation swiftly terminated – but Darth Vader was uncertain. A disturbed look passed over his son's face.

"That was mean!" Luke declared ardently, leaning forward as if to impose his will on the Sith Lord.

This would be much easier if Beru hadn't instilled morals in the boy.

"Those that serve under my command obey me; they are aware of what happens when they fail," Vader said, abandoning his lightsaber in favour of addressing his son directly. "They know they, regardless of rank, are insignificant next to the power of the Force. It keeps them in line and allows to ship to be run properly without foolish power plays."

Luke scratched his head, contemplative. Darth Vader sensed his mind running over the words, rabbit fast and skittering to conclusion.

"Can't you give 'em treats instead, dad? Uncle Owen an' Aunt Beru gave me treats if I'm good, and then I try to be good all the time to get treats," Luke suggested with his face brightening in enthusiasm at the idea, to Vader's trepidation.

He suddenly had a disturbing vision of Luke walking alongside his father and handing out candy to officers he deemed as "good".

"Then they will feel that they are entitled to reward for fulfilling their duty to the Empire, Luke. Already, some expect certain allowances to be made due to their name. Those officers gain their position through political connections." Luke's mind silently voiced his confusion. "…people they know or are related to in Coruscant. Your stormtroopers are the ones who work for their rank." _Either that or they are engineered into it_, Vader did not add. "I find this a useless system that breeds failure and idiocy amongst the higher-ups. My methods eliminate the weak before they cause too much damage."

"What did that Needle-man do?"

"He failed to capture someone very important. I punished him."

"But he looked like he was hurting! It's…" Luke hesitated, glancing up at his father uncertainly with his brow scrunched down, "wrong to hurt people." The next words were rushed out in a cautious whisper. "_Bad_ _guys_ hurt people."

The beginnings of frustration rose and was successfully quashed. The Dark Lord of the Sith would not get into a battle of ethics with a 4-year-old boy.

"In order to do good sometimes we must do things others may see as bad," Vader tried to explain patiently. "Like my crew, this galaxy is run by fear. People are afraid of the unknown, and what greater mystery is there than the Force? The Empire would not be able to hold onto its rule unless its citizens, from the lowliest recruit to a Grand Moff, know that resisting the Emperor will bring them nothing but pain. This system brings order, stability and peace to an otherwise chaotic world, but it is not effective. Not entirely. One day, with you by my side, it will be possible."

Vader was about to launch into an impassioned spiel he had preprepared to sway Luke over to the idea of ruling the galaxy, but the boy interrupted.

"I don't like it," was the stubborn response.

"When you are older we shall have this conversation again," Vader decided to end the subject. "Perhaps your view will change, my son." They would have to; the Emperor would not tolerate anything else. "However, I would appreciate it if you refrain from interrupting me in the future. The crew require discipline, and may not respect me if you keep rushing over to save them."

The latter part was said wryly and Luke puffed up in offence, like a little finch with ruffled feathers. The boy crossed his arms and rested his elbows on the table top with a grumble. Vader tried to resume his work, but found it almost impossible when Luke's disquiet practically radiated from him.

"I have something to show you," Vader offered, leaving his lightsaber for later. "Follow me."

Luke frowned at him; his feet remained glued to the spot. Vader took a few steps towards the doors, but ended up turning around when he did not hear the tiny footfalls of leather-covered feet.

"Luke?" the man questioned, a frown in his voice at being disobeyed.

"I don't wanna."

"Luke, come with me." Vader _did_ _not_ plead. He commanded and expected instant compliance.

"Why?" Luke replied sullenly.

"Because it is the only way."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

_He is only 4 years old, _Darth Vader reminded his growing frustration. "I have something to show you. I brought it back from my…trip."

Luke stayed silent, staring at his boots.

"We've captured a Belbullab-24 strike bomber during the battle," Vader offered, almost hesitantly had he not been a Sith Lord. "Would you like to inspect it with me?"

Luke looked to the side, biting his lip in clear conflict as he murmured, "Can I pilot it?"

"No." Vader decided to extend his peace offer further at Luke's falling expression. "But I will show you how."

After a long moment of indecision, Luke turned to him with beaming smile. Vader hadn't known a strange knot had formed under his chest plate until it loosened, allowing his shoulders to relax in relief. As soon as he was aware of doing so, he tensed them back to a rigid line. These _emotions_ that had begun to stir within him…he needed to monitor them closely lest they become strong enough for Darth Sidious to detect. It was a weakness – _Luke_ was a weakness – but one he could not bring himself to relinquish.

The child latched onto his glove with both hands, gently realigning his thoughts.

"Dad, c'mon! I've gotta tell Biggs all about this - Dad! Can I send a message to Biggs?"

Luke began pulling him towards the hanger bay impatiently with all his strength, yet barely enough to move his arm. Still, Darth Vader allowed himself to be dragged away, listening to the renewed excited chatter of his son.

* * *

**AN/Change of Schedule:** For the next 2 months, I will have limited internet access for most of the week and replies to your reviews may come rather late. I will also not have as much computer time to type, so updates will be posted at best once a week or fortnight. Which is not ideal.

Never fear, though. I am committed to this story! Even if I have to slot in some typing time when I get back to where I'm staying at 11 pm, it's happening...though it might not be very coherent.

Also, have you heard of the sequel to "Darth Vader and Son" coming out next May? "Vader's Little Princess". Guys. GUYS.

Next Time: The park crisis. To those who have the book, yes, that park.

Some Time: Force Training, bounty hunters, visit to Tatooine's zoo, what is Greedo doing here, Scruffy Nerf Herders, Halloween II, Princesses and Paupers


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